Free Death in the Clouds by Agatha Christie Page A

knows all about blowpipes; he said so.”
    “Which makes one pause, perhaps.”
    “Sheer artfulness,” said Japp. “And as to this blowpipe he produced today - who is to say that it's the one he bought two years ago? The whole thing looks very fishy to me. I don't think it's healthy for a man to be always brooding over crime and detective stories. Reading up all sorts of cases. It puts ideas into his head:.”
    “It is certainly necessary for a writer to have ideas in his head,” agreed Poirot.
    Japp returned to his plan of the plane.
    “No. 4 was Ryder - the seat slap in front of the dead woman. Don't think he did it. But we can't leave him out. He went to the wash room, he could have taken a pot shot on the way back from fairly close quarters. The only thing is, he'd be right up against the archaeologist fellows when he did so. They'd notice it - couldn't help it.”
    Poirot shook his head thoughtfully.
    “You are not, perhaps, acquainted with many archaeologists? If these two were having a really absorbing discussion on some point at issue - eh bien, my friend, their concentration would be such that they could be quite blind and deaf to the outside world. They would be existing, you see, in 5000 or so b.c. Nineteen hundred and thirty-four a.d. would have been nonexistent for them.”
    Japp looked a little skeptical.
    “Well, we'll pass on to them. What can you tell us about the Duponts, Fournier?”
    “M. Armand Dupont is one of the most distinguished archaeologists in France.”
    “Then that doesn't get us anywhere much. Their position in the car is pretty good from my point of view - across the gangway, but slightly farther forward than Giselle. And I suppose that they've knocked about the world and dug things up in a lot of queer places; they might easily have got hold of some native snake poison.”
    “It is possible, yes,” said Fournier.
    “But you don't believe it's likely?”
    Fournier shook his head doubtfully.
    “M. Dupont lives for his profession. He is an enthusiast. He was formerly an antique dealer. He gave up a flourishing business to devote himself to excavation. Both he and his son are devoted heart and soul to their profession. It seems to me unlikely - I will not say impossible; since the ramifications of the Stavisky business, I will believe anything! - unlikely that they are mixed up in this business.”
    “All right,” said Japp.
    He picked up the sheet of paper on which he had been making notes and cleared his throat.
    “This is where we stand: Jane Grey. Probability, poor. Possibility, practically nil. Gale. Probability, poor. Possibility, again practically nil. Miss Kerr. Very improbable. Possibility, doubtful. Lady Horbury. Probability, good. Possibility, practically nil. M. Poirot, almost certainly the criminal; the only man on board who could create a psychological moment.”
    Japp enjoyed a good laugh over his little joke and Poirot smiled indulgently and Fournier a trifle diffidently. Then the detective resumed:
    "Bryant. Probability and possibility, both good. Clancy. Motive doubtful, probability and possibility very good indeed. Ryder. Probability uncertain, possibility, quite fair. The two Duponts. Probability poor as regards motive, good as to means of obtaining poison. Possibility, good.
    “That's a pretty fair summary, I think, as fair as we can go. We'll have to do a lot of routine inquiry. I shall take on Clancy and Bryant first; find out what they've been up to; if they've been hard up at any time in the past; if they've seemed worried or upset lately; their movement in the last year - all that sort of stuff. I'll do the same for Ryder. Then it won't do to neglect the others entirely. I'll get Wilson to nose round there. M. Fournier, here, will undertake the Duponts.”
    The man from the Sыreté nodded.
    “Be well assured, that will be attended to. I shall return to Paris tonight. There may be something to be got out of Élise, Giselle's maid, now that we know a