Cards on the Table Read Online Free Page B

tonight?”
    Very deliberately and carefully Poirot retold the conversation he had held with Shaitana at Wessex House.
    Superintendent Battle pursed his lips. He very nearly whistled.
    â€œExhibits—eh? Murderers all alive oh! And you think he meant it? You don’t think he was pulling your leg?”
    Poirot shook his head.
    â€œOh, no, he meant it. Shaitana was a man who prided himself on his Mephistophelian attitude to life. He was a man of great vanity. He was also a stupid man—that is why he is dead.”
    â€œI get you,” said Superintendent Battle, following things out in his mind. “A party of eight and himself. Four ‘sleuths,’ so to speak—and four murderers!”
    â€œIt’s impossible!” cried Mrs. Oliver. “Absolutely impossible. None of those people can be criminals .”
    Superintendent Battle shook his head thoughtfully.
    â€œI wouldn’t be so sure of that, Mrs. Oliver. Murderers look and behave very much like everybody else. Nice, quiet, well-behaved, reasonable folk very often.”
    â€œIn that case, it’s Dr. Roberts,” said Mrs. Oliver firmly. “I felt instinctively that there was something wrong with that man as soon as I saw him. My instincts never lie.”
    Battle turned to Colonel Race.
    Race shrugged his shoulders. He took the question as referring to Poirot’s statment and not to Mrs. Oliver’s suspicions.
    â€œIt could be,” he said. “It could be. It shows that Shaitana was right in one case at least! After all, he can only have suspected that these people were murderers—he can’t have been sure . He may have been right in all four cases, he may have been right in only one case—but he was right in one case; his death proved that.”
    â€œOne of them got the wind up. Think that’s it, M. Poirot?”
    Poirot nodded.
    â€œThe late Mr. Shaitana had a reputation,” he said. “He had a dangerous sense of humour, and was reputed to be merciless. The victim thought that Shaitana was giving himself an evening’s amusement, leading up to a moment when he’d hand the victim over to the police— you! He (or she) must have thought that Shaitana had definite evidence.”
    â€œHad he?”
    Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
    â€œThat we shall never know.”
    â€œDr. Roberts!” repeated Mrs. Oliver firmly. “Such a hearty man. Murderers are often hearty—as a disguise! If I were you, Superintendent Battle, I should arrest him at once.”
    â€œI daresay we would if there was a Woman at the Head of Scotland Yard,” said Superintendent Battle, a momentary twinkle showing in his unemotional eye. “But, you see, mere men being in charge, we’ve got to be careful. We’ve got to get there slowly.”
    â€œOh, men—men,” sighed Mrs. Oliver, and began to compose newspaper articles in her head.
    â€œBetter have them in now,” said Superintendent Battle. “It won’t do to keep them hanging about too long.”
    Colonel Race half rose.
    â€œIf you’d like us to go—”
    Superintendent Battle hesitated a minute as he caught Mrs. Oliver’s eloquent eye. He was well aware of Colonel Race’s official position, and Poirot had worked with the police on many occasions. For Mrs. Oliver to remain was decidedly stretching a point. But Battle was a kindly man. He remembered that Mrs. Oliver had lost three pounds and seven shillings at bridge, and that she had been a cheerful loser.
    â€œYou can all stay,” he said, “as far as I’m concerned. But no interruptions, please (he looked at Mrs. Oliver), and there mustn’t be a hint of what M. Poirot has just told us. That was Shaitana’s little secret, and to all intents and purposes it died with him. Understand?”
    â€œPerfectly,” said Mrs. Oliver.
    Battle strode to the door and called the constable who was on duty in the