The Peril at End House by Agatha Christie Page B

I send her to this nursing home?' 'Then it wasn't the shock-'
    'The shock! Pah! One can recover from shock as well in one's own home as in a nursing home-better, for that matter. It is not amusing there, the floors of green linoleum, the conversation of the nurses-the meals on trays, the ceaseless washing. No, no, it is for safety and safety only. I take the doctor into my confidence. He agrees. He will make all arrangements. No one, mon ami, not even her dearest friend, will be admitted to see Miss Buckley. You and I are the only ones permitted. Pour les autres-eh bien! “Doctor's orders,” they will be told. A phrase very convenient and one not to be gainsayed.'
    'Yes,' I said. 'Only-' 'Only what, Hastings?' 'That can't go on for ever.'
    'A very true observation. But it gives us a little breathing space. And you realize, do you not, that the character of our operations has changed.'
    'In what way?'
    'Our original task was to ensure the safety of Mademoiselle. Our task now is a much simpler one-a task with which we are well acquainted. It is neither more nor less than the hunting down of a murderer.'
    'You call that simpler?'
    'Certainly it is simpler. The murderer has, as I said the other day, signed his name to the crime. He has come out into the open.'
    'You don't think-' I hesitated, then went on. 'You don't think that the police are right? That this is the work of a madman, some wandering lunatic with homicidal mania?'
    'I am more than ever convinced that such is not the case.'
    'You really think that-'
    I stopped. Poirot took up my sentence, speaking very gravely.
    'That the murderer is someone in Mademoiselle's own circle? Yes, mon ami, I do.'
    'But surely last night must almost rule out that possibility. We were all together and-'
    He interrupted.
    'Could you swear, Hastings, that any particular person had never left our little company there on the edge of the cliff? Is there any one person there whom you could swear you had seen all the time?'
    'No,' I said slowly, struck by his words. 'I don't think I could. It was dark. We all moved about, more or less. On different occasions I noticed Mrs Rice, Lazarus, you, Croft, Vyse-but all the time-no.'
    Poirot nodded his head.
    'Exactly. It would be a matter of a very few minutes. The two girls go to the house. The murderer slips away unnoticed, hides behind that sycamore tree in the middle of the lawn. Nick Buckley, or so he thinks, comes out of the window, passes within a foot of him, he fires three shots in rapid succession-'
    'Three?' I interjected.
    'Yes. He was taking no chances this time. We found three bullets in the body.' 'That was risky, wasn't it?'
    'Less risky in all probability than one shot would have been. A Mauser pistol does not make a great deal of noise. It would resemble more or less the popping of the fireworks and blend in very well with the noise of them.'
    'Did you find the pistol?' I asked.
    'No. And there, Hastings, lies to my mind the indisputable proof that no stranger is responsible for this. We agree, do we not, that Miss Buckley's own pistol was taken in the first place for one reason only-to give her death the appearance of suicide.'
    'Yes.'
    'That is the only possible reason, is it not? But now, you observe, there is no pretence of suicide. The murderer knows that we should not any longer be deceived by it. He knows, in fact, what we know!'
    I reflected, admitting to myself the logic of Poirot's deduction. 'What did he do with the pistol do you think?' Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
    'For that, it is difficult to say. But the sea was exceedingly handy. A good toss of the arm, and the pistol sinks, never to be recovered. We cannot, of course, be absolutely sure-but that is what I should have done.'
    His matter-of-fact tone made me shiver a little.
    'Do you think-do you think he realized that he'd killed the wrong person?'
    'I am quite sure he did not,' said Poirot, grimly. 'Yes, that must have been an unpleasant little surprise for him when