Free Curtain by Agatha Christie

does make a murder.”
    That, of course, was undeniable. But it still occurred to me, as it did not seem to have occurred to Poirot, that even a murderer has his off times. X might be at Styles simply for a holiday with no lethal intent. Poirot was so worked up, however, that I dared not propound this suggestion. I merely said that the whole thing seemed to me hopeless. We must wait -
    “And see,” finished Poirot. “Like your Mr Asquith in the -last war. That, mon cher, is just what we must not do. I do not say, mark you, that we shall succeed, for as I have told you before, when a killer has determined to kill, it is not easy to circumvent him. But we can at least try. Figure to yourself, Hastings, that you have here the bridge problem in the paper. You can see all the cards. What you are asked to do is 'Forecast the result of the deal.'”
    I shook my head.
    “It's no good, Poirot. I haven't the least idea. If I knew who X was -”
    Poirot howled at me again. He howled so loud that Curtiss came running in from the next room looking quite frightened. Poirot waved him away and when he had gone out again, my friend spoke in a more controlled manner.
    “Come, Hastings, you are not so stupid as you like to pretend. You have studied those cases I gave you to read. You may not know who X is, but you know X's technique for committing a crime.”
    “Oh,” I said. “I see.”
    “Of course you see. The trouble with you is that you are mentally lazy. You like to play games and guess. You do not like to work with your head. What is the essential element of X's technique? Is it not that the crime, when committed, is complete? That is to say, there is a motive for the crime, there is an opportunity, there is means and there is, last and most important, the guilty person all ready for the dock.”
    At once I grasped the essential point and realized what a fool I had been not to see it sooner.
    “I see,” I said. “I've got to look round for somebody who - who answers to those requirements - the potential victim.”
    Poirot leaned back with a sigh.
    “Enfin! I am very tired. Send Curtiss to me. You understand your job now. You are active, you can get about, you can follow people about, talk to them, spy upon them unobserved -” (I nearly uttered an indignant protest, but quelled it. It was too old an argument.) “You can listen to conversations, you have knees that will still bend and permit you to kneel and look through keyholes -”
    “I will not look through keyholes,” I interrupted hotly.
    Poirot closed his eyes.
    “Very well, then. You will not look through keyholes. You will remain the English gentleman and someone will be killed. It does not matter, that. Honour comes first with an Englishman. Your honour is more important than somebody else's life. Bien! It is understood.”
    “No, but dash it all, Poirot -”
    Poirot said coldly:
    “Send Curtiss to me. Go away. You are obstinate and extremely stupid and I wish that there were someone else whom I could trust, but I suppose I shall have to put up with you and your absurd ideas of fair play. Since you cannot use your grey cells as you do not possess them, at any rate use your eyes, your ears and your nose if need be in so far as the dictates of honour allow.”

Curtain
    II
    It was on the following day that I ventured to broach an idea which had come into my mind more than once. I did so a little dubiously, for one never knows how Poirot may react!
    I said:
    “I've been thinking, Poirot. I know I'm not much of a fellow. You've said I'm stupid. Well, in a way it's true. And I'm only half the man I was. Since Cinders' death -”
    I stopped. Poirot made a gruff noise indicative of sympathy.
    I went on:
    “But there is a man here who could help us - just the kind of man we need. Brains, imagination, resource - used to making decisions and a man of wide experience. I'm talking of Boyd Carrington. He's the man we want, Poirot. Take him into your confidence. Put the