“It was just a little more than that,” said Poirot. “She convinced me of the type of woman her mother was.” “A woman incapable of murder?” “No,” said Poirot, “it would be very difficult, and I am sure both of you agree with me, to think there is anyone quite incapable of murder if one knows what kind of person they are, what led up to it. But in that particular case, the mother never protested her innocence. She appeared to be quite content to be sentenced. That was curious to begin with. Was she a defeatist? It did not seem so. When I began to inquire, it became clear that she was not a defeatist. She was, one would say, almost the opposite of it.” Garroway looked interested. He leaned across the table, twisting a bit of bread off the roll on his plate.
“And was she innocent?” “Yes,.” said Poirot. “She was innocent.” “And that surprised you?” “Not by the time I realized it,” said Poirot. “There were one or two things–one thing in particular–that showed she could not have been guilty. One fact that nobody had appreciated at the time. Knowing that, one had only to look at what there was, shall we say, on the menu in the way of looking elsewhere.”* Grilled trout was put in front of them at this point.
“There was another case, too, where you looked into the past, not quite in the same way,” continued Spence. “A girl who said at a party that she had once seen a murder committed, “if “There again one had to–how shall I put it?–step backward instead of forward,” said Poirot. “Yes, that is very true.” “And had the girl seen the murder committed?” “No,” said Poirot, “because it was the wrong girl. This trout is delicious,” he added with appreciation.
“They do all fish dishes very well here,” said Superintendent Spence.
He helped himself from the sauce boat proffered to him.
“A most delicious sauce,” he added.
Silent appreciation of food filled the next three minutes.
“When Spence came along to me,” said Superintendent Garroway, “asking if I remembered anything about the Ravenscroft case, I was intrigued and delighted at once.” “You haven’t forgotten all about it?” “Not the Ravenscroft case. It wasn’t an easy case to forget about.” “You agree,” said Poirot, “that there were discrepancies about it? Lack of proof, alternative solutions?” “No,” said Garroway, “nothing of that kind. All the evidence recorded the visible facts. Deaths of which there were several former examples, yes, all plain sailing. And yet–” “Well?” said Poirot.
*Murder in Retrospect. [English title: Five Little Pigs.] ^Hallowe’en Party.
His keen, shrewd eyes looked across at Poirot.
“And Monsieur Poirot, if I am not mistaken, has occasionally shown a leaning towards looking into cases, going back, shall we say, for murder, back into the past, twice, perhaps three times.” “Three times, certainly,” said Superintendent Spence.
“Once, I think I am right, by request of a Canadian girl.” “That is so,” said Poirot, “A Canadian girl, very vehement, very passionate, very forceful, who had come here to investigate a murder for which her mother had been condemned to death, although she died before sentence was carried out. Her daughter was convinced that her mother had been innocent.” “And you agreed?” said Garroway.
“I did not agree,” said Poirot, “when she first told me of the matter. But she was very vehement and very sure.” “It was natural for a daughter to wish her mother to have been innocent and to try and prove against all appearances that she was innocent,” said Spence.
“It was just a little more than that,” said Poirot. “She convinced me of the type of woman her mother was.” “A woman incapable of murder?” “No,” said Poirot, “it would be very difficult, and I am sure both of you agree with me, to think there is anyone quite incapable of murder if one knows what kind of person they are, what led up to it. But in that particular case, the mother never protested her innocence. She appeared to be quite content to be sentenced. That was curious to begin with. Was she a defeatist? It did not seem so. When I began to inquire, it became clear that she was not a defeatist. She was, one would say, almost the opposite of it.” Garroway looked interested. He leaned across the table, twisting a bit of bread off the roll on his plate.