guboxs.cc 
I could hardly restrain my impatience.
"No, Hastings."
"But I've got to know."
"It is much better that you should not."
"Why?"
"You must take it from me that it is so."
"You are incorrigible," I said. "Twisted up with arthritis. Sitting here helpless. And still trying to play a 'lone hand.'"
"Do not figure to yourself that I am playing a lone hand. Not at all. You are, on the contrary, very much in the picture, Hastings. You are my eyes and my ears. I only refuse to give you information that might be dangerous."
"To me?"
"To the murderer."
"You want him," I said slowly, "not to suspect that you are on his track? That is it, I suppose. Or else you think that I cannot take care of myself."
"You should at least know one thing, Hastings. A man who has killed once will kill again - and again and again and again."
"At any rate," I said grimly, "there hasn't been another murder this time. One bullet at least has gone wide."
"Yes, that was very fortunate - very fortunate indeed. As I told you, these things are difficult to foresee."
He sighed. His face took on a worried expression.
I went away quietly, realizing sadly how unfit Poirot was now for any sustained effort. His brain was still keen, but he was a sick and tired man.
Poirot had warned me not to try to penetrate the personality of X. In my own mind I still clung to my belief that I had penetrated that personality. There was only one person at Styles who struck me as definitely evil. By a simple question, however, I could make sure of one thing. The test would be a negative one, but would nevertheless have a certain value.
I tackled Judith after breakfast.
"Where had you been yesterday evening when I met you, you and Major Allerton?"
The trouble is that when you are intent on one aspect of a thing, you tend to ignore all other aspects. I was quite startled when Judith flared out at me.
"Really, Father, I don't see what business it is of yours."
I stared at her, rather taken aback.
"I - I only asked."
"Yes, but why? Why do you have to be continually asking questions? What was I doing? Where did I go? Who was I with? It's really intolerable!"
The funny part of it was, of course, that this time I was not really asking at all where Judith was. It was Allerton I was interested in.
I tried to pacify her.
"Really, Judith, I don't see why I can't ask a simple question."
"I don't see why you want to know."
"I don't particularly. I mean, I just wondered why neither of you - er - seemed to know what had happened."
"About the accident, do you mean? I'd been down to the village, if you must know, to get some stamps."
I pounced on the personal pronoun.
"Allerton wasn't with you then?"
Judith gave an exasperated gasp.
"No, he was not," she said in tones of cold fury. "Actually we'd met just near the house and only about two minutes before we met you. I hope you're satisfied now. But I'd just like to say that if I'd spent the whole day walking around with Major Allerton, it's really not your business. I'm twenty-one and earning my own living and how I spend my time is entirely my own business."
"Entirely," I said quickly, trying to stem the tide.
"I'm glad you agree." Judith looked mollified. She gave a rueful half smile. "Oh, dearest, do try and not come the heavy father quite so much. You don't know how maddening it is. If you just wouldn't fuss so."
"I won't - I really won't in future," I promised her.
Franklin came striding along at this minute.
"Hullo, Judith. Come along. We're later than usual."
His manner was curt and really hardly polite. In spite of myself I felt annoyed. I knew that Franklin was Judith's employer, that he had a call upon her time and that, since he paid for it, he was entitled to give her orders. Nevertheless I did not see why he could not behave with common courtesy. His manners were not what one would call polished to anyone, but he did at least behave to most people with a certain amount of everyday politeness. But to Judith, especially of late, his manner was always curt and dictatorial in the extreme. He hardly looked at her when he spoke and merely barked out orders. Judith never appeared to resent this, but I did on her behalf. It crossed my mind that it was especially unfortunate since it contrasted in such a very marked way with Allerton's exaggerated attention. No doubt John Franklin was a ten times better man than Allerton, but he compared very badly with him from the point of view of attraction.
I watched Franklin as he strode along the path towards the laboratory, his ungainly walk, his angular build, the jutting bones of his face and head, his red hair and his freckles. An ugly man and an ungainly man. None of the more obvious qualities. A good brain, yes, but women seldom fall for brains alone. I reflected with dismay that Judith, owing to the circumstances of her job, practically never came into contact with other men. She had no opportunity of sizing up various attractive men. Compared with the gruff and unattractive Franklin, Allerton's meretricious charms stood out with all the force of contrast. My poor girl had no chance of appraising him at his true worth.
Supposing that she should come seriously to lose her heart to him? The irritability she had shown just now was a disquieting sign. Allerton, I knew, was a real bad lot. He was possibly something more. If Allerton were X -?
He could be. At the time that the shot was fired, he had not been with Judith.
But what was the motive of all these seemingly purposeless crimes? There was, I felt sure, nothing of the madman about Allerton. He was sane - altogether sane - and utterly unprincipled.
And Judith - my Judith - was seeing altogether too much of him.
II
Up to this time, though I had been faintly worried about my daughter, my preoccupation over X and the possibility of a crime occurring at any moment had successfully driven more personal problems to the back of my mind.
Now that the blow had fallen, that a crime had been attempted and had mercifully failed, I was free to reflect on these things. And the more I did so, the more anxious I became. A chance word spoken one day revealed to me the fact that Allerton was a married man.
Boyd Carrington, who knew all about everyone, enlightened me further. Allerton's wife was a devout Roman Catholic. She had left him a short time after their marriage. Owing to her religion there had never been any question of divorce.
"And if you ask me," said Boyd Carrington frankly, "it suits the blighter down to the ground. His intentions are always dishonourable, and a wife in the background suits the book very well."
