Agatha Christie – Hickory Dickory Death

“That is my suspicion. Yes.” “But what put you on to it, Mr.

Poirot-assuming you’re right, that is?” “A rucksack was cut to pieces,” said Poirot. “Why?

Since the reason is not plain, one has to imagine a reason. There is something queer about the rucksacks that come to Hickory Road. They are too cheap. There has been a series of peculiar happenings at Hickory Road, but the girl responsible for them swore that the destruction of the rucksack was not her doing. Since she has confessed to the other things why should she deny that unless she was speaking the truth? So there must be another reason for the destruction of the rucksack and to destroy a rucksack, I may say, is not an easy thing. It was hard work and someone must have been pretty desperate to undertake it. I got my clue when I found that roughly-(only roughly, alas, because people’s memories after a period of some months are not too certain) but roughly-that that rucksack was destroyed at about the date when a police officer called to see the person in charge of the Hostel. The actual reason that the police officer called had to do with another matter, but I will put it to you like this: You are someone concerned in this smuggling racket. You go home to the house that evening and you are informed that the police have called and are at the moment upstairs with Mrs. Hubbard. Immediately you assume that the police are on to the smuggling racket, that they have come to make an investigation; and let us say that at the moment there is in the house a rucksack just brought back from abroad containingor which has recently contained-contraband. Now, if the police have a line on what has been going on, they will have come to Hickory Road for the express purpose of examining the rucksacks of the students. You dare not walk out of the house with the rucksack in question because, for all you know, somebody may have been left outside by the police to watch the house with just that object in view, and a rucksack is not an easy thing to conceal or disguise. The only thing you can think of is to rip up the rucksack, and cram the pieces away among the junk in the boiler-house. If there is dope-or gems on the premises, they can be concealed in bath salts as a temporary measure. But even an empty rucksack, if it had held dope, might yield traces of heroin or cocaine on closer examination or analysis. So the rucksack must be destroyed. You agree that that is possible?” “It’s an idea, as I said before,” said Superintendent Wilding.

“It also seems Possible comt a small incident not hitherto regarded as important may be connected with the rucksack. According to the Italian servant, Geronimo, on the day, or one of the days, when the police called the light in the hall had gone. He went to look for a bulb to replace it; found the spare bulbs, too, were missing. He was quite sure that a day or two previously there had been spare bulbs in the drawer. It seems to me a possibility-this is far-fetched and I would not say that I am sure of it, you understand, it is a mere possibility-that there was someone with a guilty conscience who had been mixed up with a smuggling racket before and who feared that his face might be known to the police if they saw him in a bright light. So he quietly removed the bulb from the hall light and took away the new ones so that it should not be replaced. As a result the hall was illuminated by a candle only. This, as I say, is merely a supposition.” “It’s an ingenious idea,” said Wilding.

“It’s possible, sir,” said Sergeant Bell eagerly. “The more I think of it the more possible I think it is.” “But if so,” went on Wilding, “there’s more to it than just Hickory Road?” Poirot nodded.

“Oh yes. The organisation must cover a wide range of students’ clubs and so on.” “You have to find a connecting link between them,” said Wilding.

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