I found it difficult to answer him. I, also, found Poirot’s behaviour unaccountable. And since I was very attached to my strange little friend, it worried me more than I cared to express.
In the middle of a gloomy silence, Poirot walked into the room.
He was, I was thankful to see, quite calm now.
Very carefully he removed his hat, placed it with his stick on the table, and sat down in his accustomed chair.
‘So you are here, my good Japp. I am glad. It was on my mind that I must see you as soon as possible.’
Japp looked at him without replying. He saw that this was only the beginning. He waited for Poirot to explain himself.
This my friend did, speaking slowly and carefully.
‘Ecoutez, Japp. We are wrong. We are all wrong. It is grievous to admit it, but we have made a mistake.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Japp confidently.
‘But it is not all right. It is deplorable. It grieves me to the heart.’
‘You needn’t be grieved about that young man. He richly deserves all he gets.’
‘It is not he I am grieving about—it is you.’
‘Me? You needn’t worry about me.’
‘But I do. See you, who was it set you on this course? It was Hercule Poirot. Mais oui, I set you on the trail. I direct your attention to Carlotta Adams, I mention to you the matter of the letter to America. Every step of the way it is I who point it!’
‘I was bound to get there anyway,’ said Japp coldly. ‘You got a bit ahead of me, that’s all.’
‘Cela ce peut. But it does not console me. If harm—if loss of prestige comes to you through listening to my little ideas—I shall blame myself bitterly.’
Japp merely looked amused. I think he credited Poirot with motives that were none too pure. He fancied that Poirot grudged him the credit resulting from the successful elucidation of the affair.
‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘I shan’t forget to let it be known that I owe something to you over this business.’
He winked at me.
‘Oh! it is not that at all.’ Poirot clicked his tongue with impatience. ‘I want no credit. And what is more, I tell you there will be no credit. It is a fiasco that you prepare for yourself, and I, Hercule Poirot, am the cause.’
Suddenly, at Poirot’s expression of extreme melancholy, Japp shouted with laughter. Poirot looked affronted.
‘Sorry, M. Poirot.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘But you did look for all the world like a dying duck in a thunder storm. Now look here, let’s forget all this. I’m willing to shoulder the credit or the blame of this affair. It will make a big noise—you’re right there. Well, I’m going all out to get a conviction. It may be that a clever Counsel will get his lordship off—you never know with a jury. But even so, it won’t do me any harm. It will be known that we caught the right man even if we couldn’t get a conviction. And if, by any chance, the third housemaid has hysterics and owns up she did it—well, I’ll take my medicine and I won’t complain you led me up the garden. That’s fair enough.’
Poirot gazed at him mildly and sadly.
‘You have the confidence—always the confidence! You never stop and say to yourself—can it be so? You never doubt—or wonder. You never think: This is too easy!’
‘You bet your life I don’t. And that’s just where, if you’ll excuse me saying so, you go off the rails every time. Why shouldn’t a thing be easy? What’s the harm in a thing being easy?’
Poirot looked at him, sighed, half threw up his arms, then shook his head.
‘C’est fini! I will say no more.’
‘Splendid,’ said Japp heartily. ‘Now let’s get down to brass tacks. You’d like to hear what I’ve been doing?’
‘Assuredly.’
‘Well, I saw the Honourable Geraldine, and her story tallied exactly with his lordship’s. They may both be in it together, but I think not. It’s my opinion he bluffed her—she’s three parts sweet on him anyway. Took on terribly when she found he was arrested.’