“I feel so dreadfully stupid this morning,” she said apologetically.
“It’s all been very trying for you, I know,” said the Inspector with gentle sympathy. “I don’t think we need to trouble you further at the moment, Mrs.
Hubhard.” Inspector Sharpe opened the door and immediately fell over Gerortimo who was pressed against the door outside.
“Hullo,” said Inspector Sharpe pleasantly. “Listening at doors, eh?” “No, no,” Geronimo answered with an air of virtuous indignation. “I do not listermever, never! I am just coming in with message.” “I see. What message?” Geronimo said sulkily, “Only that there is gentleman downstairs to see la Signora Hubbard.” “All right. Go along in, sonny, and tell her.” He walked past Geronimo down the passage and then, taking a leaf out of the Italian’s book, turned sharply, and tiptoed Doiselessly back. Might as well know if little monkey face had been telling the truth.
He arrived in time to hear Geronimo say, “The gentleman who came to supper the other night, the gentleman with the moustaches, he is downstairs waiting to see you.” “Eh? What?” Mrs. Hubbard sounded abstracted. “Oh, thank you, Geronimo. I’ll be down in a minute or two.
“Gentleman with the moustaches, eh,” said Sharpe to himself, grinning. “I bet I know who that is.” He went downstairs and into the Common Room.
“Hullo, Mr. Poirot,” he said. “It’s a long time since we met.” Poircyt rose without visible discomposure from a kneeling position by the bottom shelf near the fireplace.
“Aha,” he said. “But surely-yes, it is Inspector Sharpe, is it not? But you were not formerly in this division?” “Transferred two years ago. Remember that business down at Crays Hill?” “Ah yes. That is a long time ago now. You are still a young man, Inspector” “Getting on, getting on.” hiscomand I am an old one. Alas!” Poirot si,eaeahe’d.
“But still active, eh, Mr. Poirot.
Active in certain ways, shall we say?” “Now what do you mean by that?” “I mean that I’d like to know why you came along here the other night to give a andM on criminology to students.” Poirot smiled.
“But there is such a simple explanation. Mrs.
Hubhard here is the sister of my much valued secretary, Miss Lemon. So when she asked me-was “When she asked you to look into what had been going on here, you came along. That’s it really, isn’t it?” “You are quite correct.” “But why? That’s what I want to know. What was there in it for you?” “To interest me, you mean?” “That’s what I mean. Here’s a silly kid who’s been pinching a few things here and there. Happens all the time. Rather small beer for you, Mr.
Poirot, isn’t it?” Poirot shook his head.
“Why not? What isn’t simple about it?” “It is not so simple as that.” Poirot sat down on a chair. With a slight frown he dusted the knees of his trousers.
“I wish I knew,” he said simply.
Sharpe frowned.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“No, and I do not understand. The things that were taken” he shook his head. “They did not make a pattern-they did not make sense. It is like seeing a trail of footprints and they are not all made by the same feet. There is, quite clearly, the print of what you have called “a silly kid”-but there is more than that. Other things happened that were meant to fit in with the pattern of Celia Austin-but they did not fit in. They were meaningless, apparently purposeless.
There was evidence, too, of malice. And Celia was not malicious.” “She was a kleptomaniac?” “I should very much doubt it.” coneaJust an ordinary petty thief, then?” “Not in the way you mean. I give it to you as my opinion that all this pilfering of petty objects was done to attract the attention of a certain young man.” ‘Colin Mcationabb?” disccallyes. She was desperately in love with Colin Meationabb. Colin never noticed her.
Instead of a nice, pretty, well behaved young girl, she displayed herself as an interesting young criminal. The result was successful. Colin Mcationabb immediately fell for her, as they say, in a big way.” was He must be a complete fool, then.” “Not at all. He is a keen psychologist.” “Oh,” Inspector Sharpe groaned. “One of those! I understand now.” A faint grin showed on his face. “Pretty smart of the girl.” “SLFFRPRISINGLY so.” Poirot repeated, musingly, “Yes, surprisingly so.” Inspector Sharpe looked alert. coneaMeaning by that, Mr. Poirot?” ‘That I wondered-I still wonder-if the idea had been suggested to her by someone else?” “For what reason?” “How do I know? Altruism? Some ulterior motive?