"Well?"I demanded eagerly.
We were seated in a first-class carriage which we had to ourselves.The
train，an express，had just drawn out of Andover.
"The crime，"said Poirot，"was committed by a man of medium height with
red hair and a cast in the left eye.He limps slightly on the right foot and
has a mole just below the shoulder-blade."
"Poirot?"I cried.
For the moment I was completely taken in.Then the twinkle in my friend's
eye undeceived me.
"Poirot?"I said again，this time in reproach.
"Mon ami，what will you?You fix upon me a look of doglike devotion and
demand of me a pronouncement a la Sherlock Holmes!Now for the truth-I do not
know what the murderer looks like，nor where he lives，nor how to set hands
upon him."
"If only he had left some clue，"I murmured.
"Yes，the clue-it is always the clue that attracts you.Alas that he did
not smoke the cigarette and leave the ash，and then step in it with a show
that has nails of a curious pattern.No-he is not so obliging.But at least，
my friend，you have the railway guide.The A B C，that is a clue for you!"
"Do you think he left it by mistake then?
"Of course not.He left it on purpose.The fingerprints tell us that."
"But there weren't any on it."
"That is what I mean.What was yesterday evening?A warm June night.Does a
man stroll about on such an evening in gloves?Such a man would certainly
have attracted attention.Therefore since there are no fingerprints on the A
B C，it must have been carefully wiped.An innocent man would have left
prints-a guilty man would not.So our murderer left it there for a
purpose-but for all that it is none the less a clue.That A B C was bought by
someone-it was carried by someone-there is a possibility there."
"You think we may learn something that way?"
"Frankly，Hastings，I am not particularly hopeful.This man，this unknown
X，obviously prides himself on his abilities.He is not likely to blaze a
trail that can be followed straight away."
"So that really the ABC isn't helpful at all."
"Not in the sense you mean."
"In any sense?"
Poirot did not answer at once.Then he said slowly:
"The answer to that is yes.We are confronted here by an unknown
personage.He is in the dark and seeks to remain in the dark.But in the very
nature of things he cannot help throwing light upon himself.In one sense we
know nothing about him-in another sense we know already a good deal.I see
his figure dimly taking shape-a man who prints clearly and well-who buys
good-quality paper-who is at great needs to express his personality.I see
him as a child possibly ignored and passed over-I see him growing up with an
inward sense of inferiority-warring with a sense of injustice......I see
that inner urge-to assert himself-to focus attention on himself ever
becoming stronger，and events，circumstances-crushing it down-heaping，
perhaps，more humiliations on him.And inwardly the match is set to the
powder train......"
"That's all pure conjucture，"I objected."It doesn't give you any
practical help."
"You prefer the match end，the cigarette ash，the nailed boots!You
always have.But at least we can ask ourselves some practical questions.Why
the A B C?Why Mrs Ascher?Why Andover?"
"The woman's past life seems simple enough，"I mused."The interviews
with those two men were disappointing.They couldn't tell us anything more
than we knew already."
"To tell the truth，I did not expect much in that line.But we could not
neglect two possible candidates for the murder."
"Surely you don't think-""There is at least a possibility that the
murderer lives in or near Andover.That is a possible answer to our
question:"Why Andover?"Well，here were two men known to have been in the
shop at the requisite time of day.Either of them might be the murderer.And
there is nothing as yet to show that one or other of them is not the
murderer."
"That great hulking brute，Riddell，perhaps，"I admitted.
"Oh，I am inclined to acquit Riddell off-hand.He was nervous，blustering，
obviously uneasy-""But surely that just shows-""A nature diametrically
opposed to that which penned the A B C letter.
Conceit and self-confidence are the characteristics that we must look
for."
"Someove who throws his weight about?"
"Possibly.But some people，under a nervous and self-effacing manner，
conceal a great deal of vanity and self-satisfaction."
"You don't think that little Mr Partridge-""He is more le type.One
cannot say more than that.He acts as the writer of the letter would act-goes
at once to the police-pushes himself to the fore-enjoys his position."
"Do you really think-?"
"No，Hastings.Personally I believe that the murderer came from outside
Andover，but we must neglect no avenue of research.And although I say
"he"all the time，we must not exclude the possibility of a woman being
concerned."
"Surely not!"
"The method of attack is that of a man，I agree.But anonymous letters
are written by women rather than by men.We must bear that in mind."
I was silent for a few minutes，then I said:
"What do we do next?"
"My energetic Hastings，"Poirot said and smiled at me.
"No，but what do we do?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"My disappointment rang out clearlly.
"Am I the magician?The sorcerer?What would you have me do?"
Turning the matter over in my mind I found it difficult to give an answer.
Nevertheless I felt convinced that something ought to be done and that
we should not allow the grass to grow under our feet.
I said:
"There is the A B C-and the notepaper and envelope-""Naturally
everything is being done in that line.The police have all the means at their
disposal for that kind of inquiry.If anything is to be discovered on those
lines have no fear but that they will discover it."
With that I was forced to rest content.
In the days that followed I found Poirot curiously disinclined to
discuss the case.When I tried to reopen the subject he waved it aside with
an impatient hand.
In my own mind I was afraid that I fathomed his motive.Over the murder
of Mrs Ascher，Poirot had sustained a defeat.A B C had challenged him-and A
B C had won.My friend，accustomed to an unbroken line of successes，was
sensitive to his failure-so much so that he could not even endure discussion
of the subject.It was，perhaps，a sign of pettiness in so great a man，but
even the most sober of us is liable to have his head turned by success.In
Poirot's case the head-turning process had been going on for years.Small
wonder if its effects became noticeable at long last.
Understanding，I respected my friend's weakness and I made no further
reference to the case.I read in the paper the account of the inquest.It was
very brief，no mention was made of the A B C letter，and a verdict was
returned of murder by some person or persons unknown.The crime attracted
very little attention in the press.It had no popular or spectacular
features.The murder of an old woman in a side street was soon passed over in
the press for more thrilling topics.
Truth to tell，the affair was fading from my mind also，partly，I think，
because I disliked to think of Poirot as being in any way associated with a
failure，when on July 25th it was suddenly revived.
I had not seen Poirot for a couple of days as I had been away in
Yorkshire for the weekend.I arrived back on Monday afternoon and the letter
came by the six o'clock post.I remember the sudden，sharp intake of breath
that Poirot gave as he slit open that particular envelope.
"It has come，"he said.
I stared at him-not understanding.
"What has come?"
"The second chapter of the A B C business."
For a minute I looked at him uncomprehendingly.The matter had really
passed from my memory.
"Read，"said Poirot and passed me over the letter.
As before，it was printed on good-quality paper.
Dear Mr Poirot-Well，what about it?First game to me，I think.The Andover
business went with a swing，didn't it?
But the fun's only just beginning.Let me draw your attention to
Bexhill-on-sea.Date，the 25th inst.
What a merry time we are having!Yours etc.
A B C "Good God，Poirot，"I cried."Does this mean that this fiend is
going to attempt another crime?"
"Naturally，Hastings.What else did you expect?Did you think that the
Andover business was an isolated case?Do you not remember my saying:"This is
the beginning"?"
"But this is horrible!"
"Yes，it is horrible."
"We're up against a homicidal maniac."
"Yes."
His quietness was more impressive than any heroics could have been.I
handed back the letter with a shudder.
The following morning saw us at a conference of powers.The Chief
Constable of Sussex，the Assistant Commissioner of the CID，Inspector Glen
from Andover，Superintendent Carter of the Sussex police，Japp and a younger
inspector called Crome，and Dr Thompson，the famous alienist，were all
assembled together.The postmark on this letter was Hampstead，but in
Poirot's opinion little importance could be attached to this fact.
The matter was discussed fully.Dr Thompson was a pleasant middle-aged
man who，in spite of his learning，contented himself with homely language，
avoiding the technicalities of his profession.
"There's no doubt，"said the Assistant Commissioner，"that the two
letters are in the same hand.Both were written by the same person."
"And we can fairly assume that that person was responsible for the
Andover murder."
"Quite.We've now got definite warning of a second crime scheduled to
take place on the 25th-the day after tomorrow-at Bexhill.What steps can be
taken?"
The Sussex Chief Constable looked at his superintendent.
"Well，Carter，what about it?"
The superintendent shook his head gravely.
"It's difficult，sir.There's not the least clue towards whom the victim
may be.Speaking fair and square，what steps can we take?"
"A suggestion，"murmured Poirot.
Their faces turned to him.
"I think it possible that the surname of the intended victim will begin
with the letter B."
"That would be something，"said the superintendent doubtfully.
"An alphabetical complex，"said Dr Thompson thoughtfully.
"I suggest it as a possibility-no more.It came into my mind when I saw
the name Ascher clearly written over the shop door of the unfortunate woman
who was murdered last month.When I got the letter naming Bexhill it occurred
to me as a possibility that the victim as well as the place might be
selected by an alphabetical system."
"It's possible，"said the doctor."On the other hand，it may be that the
name Ascher was a coincidence-that the victim this time，no matter what her
name is，will again be an old woman who keeps a shop.We're dealing，remember，
with a madman.So far he hasn't given us any clue as to motive."
"Has a madman any motive，sir?"asked the superintendent sceptically.
"Of course he has，man.A deadly logic is one of the special
characteristics of acute mania.A man may believe himself divinely appointed
to kill clergymen-or doctors-or old women in tobacco shops-and there's
always some perfectly coherent reason behind it.We musn't let the
alphabetical business run away with us.Bexhill succeeding to Andover may be
a mere coincidence."
"We can at least take certain precautions，Carter，and make a special
note of the B's，especially small shopkeepers，and keep a watch on all small
tobacconists and newsagents looked after by a single person.I don't think
there's anything more we can do than that.Naturally，keep tabs on all
strangers as far as possible."
The superintendent uttered a groan.
"With the schools breaking up and the holidays beginning?People are
fairly flooding into the place this week."
"We must do what we can，"the Chief Constable said sharply.
Inspector Glen spoke in his turn.
"I'll have a watch kept on anyone connected with the Ascher business.
Those two witnesses，Partridge and Riddell，and of course Ascher
himself.If they show any sign of leaving Andover they'll be followed."
The conference broke up after a few more suggestions and a little
desultory conversation.
"Poirot，"I said as we walked along by the river."Surely this crime can
be prevented?"
He turned a haggard face to me.
"The sanity of a city full of men against the insanity of one man?I fear，
Hastings-I very much fear.Remember the long-continued successes of Jack the
Ripper."
"It's horrible，"I said.
"Madness，Hastings，is a terrible thing......I am afraid......I am very
much afraid......"
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