the street in which the tragedy had occurred was a turning offthe mainstreet. mrs. ascher' s shop was situated about half-way down it on theright-hand side.

as we turned into the street poirot glanced at his watch and i real-izedwhy he had delayed his visit to the scene of the crime until now. itwas j ust on half-past five, he had wished to reproduce yesterday' sat-mosphere

as closely as possible.

but if that had been his purpose it was defeated. certainly at thismoment the road bore very little likeness to its appearance on thepre-vious

evening. there were a certain number of small shops inter-spersedbetween private houses of the poorer class. i j udged thatordinarily there would be a fair number of people passing up anddown--mostly people of the poorer classes, with a good sprinkling ofchildren playing on the pavements and in the road.

at this moment there was a solid mass of people standing stating atone particular house or shop and it took little perspicuity to guesswhich that was. what we saw was a mass of average human beingslooking with intense interest at the spot where another human beinghad been done to death.

as we drew nearer this proved to be indeed the case. in front of asmall dingy-looking shop with its shutters now closed stood aharassed-looking young policeman who was stolidly adj uring thecrowd to "pass along there. " by the help of a colleague, displacements23

il?

took place--a certain number of people grudgingly sighed and betookthemselves to their ordinary vocations, and almost immediately otherpersons came along and took up their stand to gaze their full on thespot where murder had been committed.

poirot stopped a little distance from the main body of the crowd.

from where we stood the legend painted over the door could be readplainly enough. poirot repeated it under his breath.

"a. ascher. oui, c ' est peut-tre /a--" he broke off.

"come, let us go inside, hastings. "

i was only too ready.

we made our way through the crowd and accosted the young policeman.

poirot produced the credentials which the inspector had givenhim. the constable nodded, and unlocked the door to let us passwithin. we did so and entered to the intense interest of the lookers-on.

inside it was very dark owing to the shutters being closed. theconstable found and switched on the electric light. the bulb was a low-powered one so that the interior was still dimly lit.

i looked about me.

a dingy little place. a few cheap magazines strewn about, and yesterday' snewspapers--all with a day' s dust on them. behind thecounter a row of shelves reaching to the ceiling and packed with tobaccoand packets of cigarettes. there were also a couple of j ars o'

peppermint humbugs and barley sugar. a commonplace little shop,one of many thousand such others.

the constable in his slow hampshire voice was explaining the mist'

en scbne.

"down in a heap behind the counter, that' s where she was. doctorsays as how she never knew what hit her. must have been reaching upto one of the shelves. "

"there was nothing in her hand?"

"no, sir, but there was a packet of players down beside her. "poirot nodded. his eyes swept round the small space observing-noting.

"and the railway guide was--where?"

"here, sir. " the constable pointed out the spot on the counter. "itwas open at the right page for andover and lying face down. seemsthough he must have been looking up the trains to london. if so' twasn' t an andover man at all. but then, of course, the railway gui&might have belonged to some one else what had nothing to do with themurder at all, but j ust forgot it here. "

"fingerprints. ' ?" i suggested.

the man shook his head.

"the whole place was examined straight away, sir. there weren' tnone. "

"not on the counter itself?. " asked poirot.

"a long sight too many, sir! all confused and j umbled up. ""any of ascber' s among themt"

"too soon to say, sir. "

poirot nodded, then asked if the dead woman lived over the shop.

"yes, sir, you go through that door at the back, sir. you' ll excuseme

from coming with you, but i' ve got to stay--"poirot passed through the door in question and i followed him. behindthe shop was a microscopic sort of parlour and kitchencombined it was neat and clean but very dreary-looking and scantilyfurnished. on the mantelpiece were a few photographs. i went up andlooked at them and poirot j oined me.

the photographs were three in all. one was a cheap portrait of thegirl we had been with that afternoon, mary drower. she was obviouslywearing her best clothes and had the self-conscious, wooden smile onher face that so often disfigures the expression in posed photography,and makes a snapshot preferable.

the second was a more expensive type of picture--an artisticallyblurred reproduction of an elderly woman with white hair. a high furcollar stood up round the neck.

i guessed that this was probably the miss rose who had left mrs.

ascher the small legacy which had enabled her to start in business.

the third photograph was a very old one, now faded and yellow. itrepresented a young man and woman in somewhat old-fashionedclothes standing arm in arm. the man had a flower in his buttonholeand there was an air of bygone festivity about the whole pose.

"probably a wedding picture, " said poirot. "regard, hastings, did inot tell you that she had been a beautiful womant'

he was right. disfigured by old-fashioned hair-dressing and weirdclothes, there was no disguising the handsomeness of the girl in thepicture with her clear-cut features and spirited bearing. i lookedclosely at the second figure. it was almost impossible to recognizethe

seedy ascher in this smart young man with the military beating.

i recalled the leering drunken old man, and the worn, toil-worn faceof the dead woman--and i shivered a little at the remorselessness oftinle . . . .

from the parlour a stair led to two upstairs rooms. one was empty and unfurnished, the other had evidently been the dead woman' s bedroom.

after being searched by the police it had been left as it was. acouple of old worn blankets on the bed--a little stock of well-darnedunderwear in a drawer--cookery recipes in another--a paperbackednovel entitled the green oasis--a pair of new stockings--pathetic intheir cheap shininess--a couple of china ornaments--a dresden shepherdmuch broken, and a blue and yellow spotted dog--a black rain.

coat and a woolly j umper hanging on pegs--such were the worldlypossessions of the late alice ascher.

if there had been any personal papers, the police had taken them.

"pauvrefemme, " murmured poirot. "come, hastings, there is nothingfor us here. "

when we were once more in the street, he hesitated for a minute ortwo, then crossed the road. almost exactly opposite mrs. ascher' s wasa greengrocer' s shop--of the type that has most of its stock outsiderather than inside.

in a low voice poirot gave me certain instructions. then he himselfentered the shop. after waiting a minute or two i followed him in. hewas at the moment negotiating for a lettuce. i myself bought a poundof strawberries.

poirot was talking animatedly to the stout lady who was servinghim.

"it was j ust opposite you, was it not, that this murder occurred?

what an affair! what a sensation it must have caused you! "the stout lady was obviously tired of talking about the murder. shemust have had a long day of it. she observed:

"it would be as well if some of that gaping crowd cleared off. whatis there to look at, i' d like to know. ' ?"

"it must have been very different last night, " said poirot. "possiblyyou even observed the murderer enter the shopa tall, fair man with abeard, was he not? a russian, so i have heard. ""what' s that? the woman looked up sharply. "a russian did it.

you sayt'

"i understand that the police have arrested him. ""did you ever nowt' the woman was excited, voluble. "a foreigner. ""mais oui. i thought perhaps you might have noticed him lastnight?

"well, i don' t get much chance of noticing, and that' s a fact. theevening' s our busy time and there' s always a fair few passing and getting home after their work. a tall, fair man with a beard--no,ican' t say i saw any one of that description anywhere about. "i broke in on my cue.

"excuse me, sir, " i said to poirot. "i think you have been misin-formed.

a short dark man i was told. "

an interested discussion intervened in which the stout lady, her lankhusband and a hoarse-voiced shopboy all participated. no less thanfour short dark men had been observed, and the hoarse boy had seen atall fair one, "but he hadn' t got no beard, " he added regretfully.

finally, our purchases made, we left the establishment, leaving ourfalsehoods uncorrected.

"and what was the point of all that, poirot?" i demanded somewhatreproachfully.

"parbleu, i wanted to estimate the chances of a stranger being no-ticedentering the shop opposite. "

"couldn' t you simply have asked--without all that tissue of lies?""no, mon ami. if i had ' simply asked, ' as you put it, i should havegot no answer at all to my questions. you yourself are english and yetyou do not seem to appreciate the quality of the english reaction toadirect question. it is invariably one of suspicion and the natural resultis reticence. if i had asked those people for information they wouldhave shut up like oysters. but by making a statement (and a somewhatout-of-the-way and preposterous one) and by your contradiction of it,tongues are immediately loosened. we know also that that particulartime was a ' busy time' --that is, that every one would be intent on theirown concerns and that there would be a fair number of people passingalong the pavements. our murderer chose his time well, hastings. "he paused and then added on a deep note of reproach:

"is it that you have not in any degree the common sense, hastings? isay to you: ' make the purchase quel conque' --and you deliberatelychoose the strawberries! already they commence to creep throughtheir bag and endanger your good suit. "

with some dismay, i perceived that this was indeed the case.

i hastily presented the strawberries to a small boy who seemedhighly astonished and faintly suspicious.

poirot added the lettuce, thus setting the seal on the child' sbewilder-ment.

he continued to drive the moral home.

"at a cheap greengrocer' s--not strawberries. a strawberry, unlessfresh picked, is bound to exude j uice. a banana--some apples---evenacabbage--but strawberries--"

"it was the first thing i thought of, " i explained by way of excuse.

"that is unworthy of your imagination, " returned poirot sternly.

he paused on the sidewalk.

the house and shop on the right of mrs. ascher' s was empty. a "tolet" sign appeared in the windows. on the other side was a house withsomewhat grimy muslin curtains.

to this house poirot betook himself and, there being no bell, executeda series of sharp flourishes with the knocker.

the door was opened after some delay by a very dirty child with anose that needed attending to.

"good-evening, " said poirot. "is your mother within?""ay?" said the child.

it stared at us with disfavour and deep suspicion.

"your mother, " said poirot.

this took some twelve seconds to sink in, then the child turnedand, bawling up the stairs, "mum, you' re wanted, " retreated to somefastness in the dim interior.

a sharp-faced woman looked over the balusters and began to descend.

"no good you wasting your time--" she began, but poirot interruptedher.

he took off his hat and bowed magnificently.

"good-evening, madame. i am on the staff of the evening flicker. i wantto persuade you to accept a fee of five pounds and let us have anarticle on your late neighbour, mrs. ascher. "the irate words arrested on her lips, the woman came down thestairs smoothing her hair and hitching at her skirt.

"come inside, please--on the left there. won' t you sit down, sir. "the tiny room was heavily over-crowded with a massive pseudo-jacobeansuite, but we managed to squeeze ourselves in and on to ahard-seated sofa.

"you must excuse me, " the woman was saying. "i am sure i' m sorryi spoke so sharp j ust now, but you' d hardly believe the worry one hasto put up with--fellows coming along selling this, that and theother--vacuum

cleaners, stockings, lavender bags and such like foolery--and all soplausible and civil spoken. got your name, too, pat they have.

it' s mrs. fowler this, that and the other. "seizing adroitly on the name, poirot said:

"well, mrs. fowler, i hope you' re going to do what i ask. ""i don' t know, i' m sure. " the five pounds hung alluringly beforethe a. b. c. murders

mrs. fowler' s eyes. "i knew mrs. ascher, of course, but as to writinganything. "

hastily poirot reassured her. no labour on her part was required. hewould elicit the facts from her and the interview would be written up.

thus encouraged, mrs. fowler plunged willingly into reminiscence,conj ecture and hearsay.

kept to herself, mrs. ascher had. not what you' d call really friendly,but there, she' d had a lot of trouble, poor soul, every oneknew that. and by right franz ascher ought to have been locked upyears ago. not that mrs. ascher had been afraid of him--a real tartarshe could be when roused! give as good as she got any day. but thereit

was--the pitcher could go to the well once too often. again and again,she, mrs. fowler, had said to her: "one of these days that man willdo

for you. mark my words. " and he had done, hadn' t he? and there hadshe, mrs. fowler, been right next door and never heard a sound.

in a pause poirot managed to insert a question.

had mrs. ascher ever received any peculiar letters---letters withouta proper signature--j ust something like a. b. c. ?

regretfully, mrs. fowler returned a negative answer.

"i know the kind of thing you mean--anonymous letters they callthem--mostly full of words you' d blush to say out loud. well, i don' tknow, i' m sure, if franz ascher ever took to writing those. mrs.

ascher never let on to me if he did. what' s that? a railway guide, ana. b. c. ? no, i never saw such a thing about--and i' m sure if mrs.

ascher had been sent one i' d have heard about it. i declare you couldhave knocked me down with a feather when i heard about this wholebusiness. it was my girl edie what came to me. ' mum, ' she says,' there' s ever so many policemen next door. ' gave me quite a turn, itdid. ' well, ' i said, when i heard about it, ' it does show that she oughtnever to have been alone in the house--that niece of hers ought to havebeen with her. a man in drink can be like a ravening wolf, ' i said,' and

in my opinion a wild beast is neither more nor less than what that olddevil of a husband of hers is. i' ve warned her, ' i said, ' many timesand

now my words have come true. he' ll do for you, ' i said. and he hasdone for her! you can' t rightly estimate what a man will do when he' sin drink and this murder' s a proof of it. "

she wound up with a deep gasp.

"nobody saw this man ascher go into the shop, i believe. 9' ' saidpoirot.

mrs. fowler sniffed scornfully.

"naturally he wasn' t going to show himself, " she . aid.

how mr. ascher had got there without showing himself she did notdeign to explain.

she agreed that there was no back way into the house and thatascher was quite well known by sight in the district.

"but he didn' t want to swing for it and he kept himself well hid. "poirot kept the conversational ball rolling some little time longerbut

when it seemed certain that mrs. fowler had told all that she knew notonce but many times over, he terminated the interview, first payingout

the promised sum.

"rather a dear five pounds' worth, poirot, " i ventured to remarkwhen we were once more in the street.

"so far, yes. "

"you think she knows more than she has told?""my friend, we are in the peculiar position of not knowing whatquestions to ask. we are like little children playing cache cache inthe

dark. we stretch out our hands and grope about. mrs. fowler has toldus all that she thinks she knows--and has thrown in several conj ec-turesfor good measure! in the future, however, her evidence may beuseful. it is for the future that i have invested that sum of fivepounds. "

i did not quite understand the point, but at this moment we ran intoinspector glen.