chapter 9 elise grandier

the weather on the following day was of so perfect a nature that even hercule poirot had to admit that his estomac was perfectly peaceful.

on this occasion they were traveling by the 8:45 air service to paris.

there were seven or eight travelers besides poirot and fournier in the compartment and the frenchman utilized the journey to make some experiments. he took from his pocket a small piece of bamboo, and three times during the journey he raised this to his lips, pointing it in a certain direction. once he did it bending himself round the corner of his seat. once with his head slightly turned sideways. once when he was returning from the wash room. and on each occasion he caught the eye of some passenger or other eying him with mild astonishment. on the last occasion, indeed, every eye in the car seemed to be fixed upon him.

fournier sank in his seat discouraged, and was but little cheered by observing poirot's open amusement.

"you are amused, my friend? but you agree, one must try the experiments?"

"?videmment! in truth, i admire your thoroughness. there is nothing like ocular demonstration. you play the part of the murderer with blowpipe. the result is perfectly clear. everybody sees you!"

"not everybody."

"in a sense, no. on each occasion there is somebody who does not see you. but for a successful murder that is not enough. you must be reasonably sure that nobody will see you."

"and that is impossible, given ordinary conditions," said fournier. "i hold then to my theory that there must have been extraordinary conditions. the psychological moment! there must have been a psychological moment when everyone's attention was mathematically centered elsewhere."

"our friend inspector japp is going to make minute inquiries on that point."

"do you not agree with me, m. poirot?"

poirot hesitated a minute, then he said slowly:

"i agree that there was - that there must have been a psychological reason why nobody saw the murderer. but ideas are running in a slightly different channel from yours. i feel that in this case mere ocular facts may be deceptive. close your eyes, my friend, instead of opening them wide. use the eyes of the brain, not of the body. let the little grey cells of the mind function. let it be their task to show you what actually happened."

fournier stared at him curiously.

"i do not follow you, m. poirot."

"because you are deducing from things that you have seen. nothing can be so misleading as observation."

fournier shook his head again and spread out his hands.

"i give it up. i cannot catch your meanings."

"our friend giraud would urge you to pay no attention to my vagaries.

'be up and doing,' he would say. 'to sit still in an armchair and think - that is the method of an old man past his prime.' but i say that a young hound is often so eager upon the scent that he overruns it. for him is the trail of the red herring. there, it is a very good hint i have given you there."

and leaning back, poirot closed his eyes, it may have been to think, but it is quite certain that five minutes later he was fast asleep.

on arrival in paris they went straight to no. 3, rue joliette.

the rue joliette is on the south side of the seine. there was nothing to distinguish no. 3 from the other houses. an aged concierge admitted them and greeted fournier in a surly fashion.

"so, we have the police here again! nothing but trouble. this will give the house a bad name."

he retreated grumbling into his apartment.

"we will go to giselle's office," said fournier. "it is on the first floor."

he drew a key from his pocket as he spoke and explained that the french police had taken the precaution of locking and sealing the door whilst awaiting the result of the english inquest.

"not, i fear," said fournier, "that there is anything here to help us."

he detached the seals, unlocked the door, and they entered. madame giselle's office was a small stuffy apartment. it had a somewhat old- fashioned type of safe in a corner, a writing desk of businesslike appearance and several shabbily upholstered chairs. the one window was dirty, and it seemed highly probable that it had never been opened.

fournier shrugged his shoulders as he looked round.

"you see?" he said. "nothing. nothing at all."

poirot passed round behind the desk. he sat down in the chair and looked across the desk at fournier. he passed his hand gently across the surface of the wood, then down underneath it.

"there is a bell here," he said.

"yes, it rings down to the concierge."

"ah, a wise precaution. madame's clients might sometimes become obstreperous."

he opened one or two of the drawers. they contained stationery, a calendar, pens and pencils, but no papers and nothing of a personal nature.

poirot merely glanced into them in a cursory manner.

"i will not insult you, my friend, by a close search. if there were anything to find, you would have found it, i am sure." he looked across at the safe. "not a very efficacious pattern, that."

"somewhat out of date," agreed fournier.

"it was empty?"

"yes. that cursed maid had destroyed everything."

"ah, yes, the maid. the confidential maid. we must see her. this room, as you say, has nothing to tell us. it is significant, that; do you not think so?"

"what do you mean by significant, m. poirot?"

"i mean that there is in this room no personal touch. i find that interesting."

"she was hardly a woman of sentiment," said fournier dryly.

poirot rose.

"come," he said. "let us see this maid - this highly confidential maid."

?lise grandier was a short, stout woman of middle age with a florid face and small shrewd eyes that darted quickly from fournier's face to that of his companion and then back again.

"sit down, mademoiselle grandier," said fournier.

"thank you, monsieur."

she sat down composedly.

"m. poirot and i have returned today from london. the inquest - the inquiry, that is, into the death of madame - took place yesterday. there is no doubt whatsoever. madame was poisoned."

the frenchwoman shook her head gravely.

"it is terrible, what you say there, monsieur. madame poisoned. who would ever have dreamed of such a thing?"

"that is, perhaps, where you can help us, mademoiselle."

"certainly, monsieur, i will, naturally, do all i can to aid the police. but i know nothing - nothing at all."

"you know that madame had enemies?" said fournier sharply.

"that is not true. why should madame have enemies?"

"come, come, mademoiselle grandier," said fournier dryly. "the profession of a money lender - it entails certain unpleasantnesses."

"it is true that sometimes the clients of madame were not very reasonable," agreed ?lise.

"they made scenes, eh? they threatened her?"

the maid shook her head.

"no, no, you are wrong there. it was not they who threatened. they whined, they complained, they protested they could not pay - all that, yes." her voice held a very lively contempt.

"sometimes, perhaps, mademoiselle," said poirot, "they could not pay."

?lise grandier shrugged her shoulders.

"possibly. that is their affair! they usually paid in the end."

her tone held a certain amount of satisfaction.

"madame giselle was a hard woman," said fournier.

"madame was justified."

"you have no pity for the victims?"

"victims - victims." ?lise spoke with impatience. "you do not understand. is it necessary to run into debt? to live beyond your means? to run and borrow, and then expect to keep the money as a gift? it is not reasonable, that! madame was always fair and just. she lent, and she expected repayment. that is only fair. she herself had no debts. always she paid honorably what she owed. never, never were there any bills outstanding. and when you say that madame was a hard woman, it is not the truth! madame was kind. she gave to the little sisters of the poor when they came. she gave money to charitable institutions. when the wife of georges, the concierge, was ill, madame paid for her to go to a hospital in the country."

she stopped, her face flushed and angry.

she repeated, "you do not understand. no, you do not understand madame at all."

fournier waited a moment for her indignation to subside, and then said:

"you made the observation that madame's clients usually managed to pay in the end. were you aware of the means madame used to compel them?"

she shrugged her shoulders.

"i know nothing, monsieur - nothing at all."

"you knew enough to burn madame's papers."

"i was following her instructions. if ever, she said, she were to meet with an accident, or if she were taken ill and died somewhere away from home, i was to destroy her business papers."

"the papers in the safe downstairs?" asked poirot.

"that is right. her business papers."

"and they were in the safe downstairs?"

his persistence brought the red up in ?lise's cheeks.

"i obeyed madame's instructions," she said.

"i know that," said poirot, smiling. "but the papers were not in the safe. that is so, is it not? that safe, it is far too old-fashioned; quite an amateur might have opened it. the papers were kept elsewhere. in madame's bedroom, perhaps?"

?lise paused a moment, and then answered:

"yes, that is so. madame always pretended to clients that papers were kept in the safe, but in reality the safe was a blind. everything was in madame's bedroom."

"will you show us where?"

?lise rose and the two men followed her. the bedroom was a fair-sized room, but was so full of ornate heavy furniture that it was hard to move about freely in it. in one corner was a large old-fashioned trunk. ?lise lifted the lid and took out an old-fashioned alpaca dress with a silk underskirt. on the inside of the dress was a deep pocket.

"the papers were in this, monsieur," she said. "they were kept in a large sealed envelope."

"you told me nothing of this," said fournier sharply, "when i questioned you three days ago?"

"i ask pardon, monsieur. you asked me where were the papers that should be in the safe? i told you i had burned them. that was true. exactly where the papers were kept seemed unimportant."

"true," said fournier. "you understand, mademoiselle grandier, that those papers should not have been burned."

"i obeyed madame's orders," said ?lise sullenly.

"you acted, i know, for the best," said fournier soothingly. "now i want you to listen to me very closely, mademoiselle. madame was murdered. it is possible that she was murdered by a person or persons about whom she held certain damaging knowledge. that knowledge was in those papers you burned. i am going to ask you a question, mademoiselle, and do not reply too quickly without reflection. it is possible - indeed, in my view, it is probable and quite understandable - that you glanced through those papers before committing them to the flames. if that is the case, no blame will be attached to you for so doing. on the contrary, any information you have acquired may be of the greatest service to the police, and may be of material service in bringing the murderer to justice. therefore, mademoiselle, have no fear in answering truthfully. did you, before burning the papers, glance over them?"

?lise breathed hard. she leaned forward and spoke emphatically.

"no, monsieur," she said, "i looked at nothing. i read nothing. i burned the envelope without undoing the seal."