Five Little Pigs

Yes, Philip had been too vehement-too biased. Poirot visualized him thoughtfully-the cheerful prosperous man with his golf and his comfortable house. What had Philip Blake really felt sixteen years ago.

Angela Warren was speaking.

‘I don’t understand it. You see, I’ve no experience in love affairs-they haven’t come my way. I’ve told you this for what it’s worth in case-in case it might have a bearing on what happened.’

Book II

Narrative of Philip Blake

(Covering letter received with manuscript)

Dear M. Poirot,

I am fulfilling my promise and herewith find enclosed an account of the events relating to the death of Amyas Crale. After such a lapse of time I am bound to point out that my memories may not be strictly accurate, but I have put down what occurred to the best of my recollection.

Yours truly,

Philip Blake

Notes on Progress of Events Leading

up to Murder of Amyas Crale on Sept., 19…

My friendship with deceased dates back to a very early period. His home and mine were next door to each other in the country, and our families were friends. Amyas Crale was a little over two years older than I was. We played together as boys, in the holidays, though we were not at the same school.

From the point of view of my long knowledge of the man I feel myself particularly qualified to testify as to his character and general outlook on life. And I will say this straight away-to any one who knew Amyas Crale well-the notion of his committing suicide is quite ridiculous. Crale wouldnever have taken his own life. He was far too fond of living! The contention of the defence at the trial that Crale was obsessed by conscience, and took poison in a fit of remorse, is utterly absurd to any one who knew the man. Crale, I should say, had very little conscience, and certainly not a morbid one. Moreover, he and his wife were on bad terms, and I don’t think he would have had any scruples about breaking up what was, to him, a very unsatisfactory married life. He was prepared to look after her financial welfare and that of the child of the marriage, and I am sure would have done so generously. He was a very generous man-and altogether a warm-hearted and lovable person. Not only was he a great painter, but he was a man whose friends were devoted to him. As far as I know he had no enemies.

I had also known Caroline Crale for many years. I knew her before her marriage, when she used to come and stay at Alderbury. She was then a somewhat neurotic girl, subject to uncontrollable outbursts of temper, not without attraction, but unquestionably a difficult person to live with.

She showed her devotion to Amyas almost immediately. He, I do not think, was really very much in love with her. But they were frequently thrown together-she was, as I say, attractive, and they eventually became engaged. Amyas Crale’s best friends were rather apprehensive about the marriage, as they felt that Caroline was quite unsuited to him.

This caused a certain amount of strain in the first few years between Crale’s wife and Crale’s friends, but Amyas was a loyal friend and was not disposed to give up his old friends at the bidding of his wife. After a few years, he and I were on the same old terms and I was a frequent visitor at Alderbury. I may add that I stood godfather to the little girl, Carla. This proves, I think, that Amyas considered me his best friend, and it gives me authority to speak for a man who can no longer speak for himself.

To come to the actual events of which I have been asked to write, I arrived down at Alderbury (so I see by an old diary) five days before the crime. That is, on Sept. 13th. I was conscious at once of a certain tension in the atmosphere. There was also staying in the house Miss Elsa Greer whom Amyas was painting at the time.

It was the first time I had seen Miss Greer in the flesh, but I had been aware of her existence for some time. Amyas had raved about her to me a month previously. He had met, he said, a marvellous girl. He talked about her so enthusiastically that I said to him jokingly: ‘Be careful, old boy, or you’ll be losing your head again.’ He told me not to be a bloody fool. He was painting the girl; he’d no personal interest in her. I said: ‘Tell that to the marines! I’ve heard you say that before.’ He said: ‘This time it’s different’; to which I answered somewhat cynically: ‘It always is!’ Amyas then looked quite worried and anxious. He said: ‘You don’t understand. She’s just a girl. Not much more than a child.’ He added that she had very modern views and was absolutely free from old-fashioned prejudices. He said: ‘She’s honest and natural and absolutely fearless!’