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This was Franklin Clarke，the dead man's only brother. He had the resolute competent manner of a man accustomed to meeting withemergencies. "Good morning，gentlemen." Inspector Wells made the introductions. "This is Inspector Crome of the CID，Mr Hercule Poirot and-er-CaptainHayter." "Hastings，"I corrected coldly.
Franklin Clarke shook hands with each of us in turn and in each case thehandshake was accompanied by a piercing look. "Let me offer you some breakfast，"he said."We can discuss the positionas we eat." There were no dissentient voices and we were soon doing justice toexcellent eggs and bacon and coffee. "Now for it，"said Franklin Clarke."Inspector Wells gave me a rough ideaof the position last night-though I may say it seemed one of the wildest

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But his attention was distracted by his colleague and he did not waitfor a reply. I joined Poirot in the hall. "Did anything strike you，Poirot?"I inquired. "Only the amazing magnanimity of the murderer，Hastings." I had not the courage to say that I had not the least idea what he meant. Conferences! Much of my memories of the A B C case seem to be of conferences. Conferences at Scotland Yard.At Poirot's rooms.Official conferences. Unofficial conferences. This particular conference was to decide whether or not the factsrelative to the anonymous letters should or should not be made public in thepress.
The Bexhill murder had attracted much attention than the Andover one. It had，of course，far more elements of popularity.To begin with thevictim was a young and good-looking girl.Also，it had taken placed at apopular seaside resort.

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"It's true，Don/"He said as though mechanically: "Have you just come down from London?" "Yes.Dad phoned me." "By the 9.30，I suppose?"said Donald Fraser. His mind，shrinking from reality，ran for safety along these unimportantdetails. "Yes." There was silence for a minute or two，the Fraser said: "The police?Are they doing anything?" "They're upstairs now.Looking through Betty's things，I suppose."
"They've no idea who-?They don't know-?" He stopped. He had all a sensitive，shy person's dislike of putting violent factsinto words. Poirot moved forward a little and asked a question. He spoke in a businesslike，matter-of-fact voice as though what he asked

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inspector called Crome，and Dr Thompson，the famous alienist，were allassembled together.The postmark on this letter was Hampstead，but inPoirot's opinion little importance could be attached to this fact. The matter was discussed fully.Dr Thompson was a pleasant middle-agedman 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 twoletters are in the same hand.Both were written by the same person." "And we can fairly assume that that person was responsible for theAndover murder." "Quite.We've now got definite warning of a second crime scheduled totake place on the 25th-the day after tomorrow-at Bexhill.What steps can betaken?" The Sussex Chief Constable looked at his superintendent.

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"You think we may learn something that way?" "Frankly，Hastings，I am not particularly hopeful.This man，this unknownX，obviously prides himself on his abilities.He is not likely to blaze atrail 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 unknownpersonage.He is in the dark and seeks to remain in the dark.But in the verynature of things he cannot help
throwing light upon himself.In one sense weknow nothing about him-in another sense we know already a good deal.I seehis figure dimly taking shape-a man who prints clearly and well-who buysgood-quality paper-who is at great needs to express his personality.I seehim as a child possibly ignored and passed over-I see him growing up with aninward sense of inferiority-warring with a sense of injustice......I see

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that inner urge-to assert himself-to focus attention on himself everbecoming stronger，and events，circumstances-crushing it down-heaping，perhaps，more humiliations on him.And inwardly the match is set to thepowder train......" "That's all pure conjucture，"I objected."It doesn't give you anypractical help." "You prefer the match end，the cigarette ash，the nailed boots!Youalways have.But at least we can ask ourselves some practical questions.Whythe A B C?Why Mrs Ascher?Why Andover?" "The woman's past life seems simple enough，
"I mused."The interviewswith those two men were disappointing.They couldn't tell us anything morethan we knew already." "To tell the truth，I did not expect much in that line.But we could notneglect two possible candidates for the murder." "Surely you don't think-""There is at least a possibility that themurderer lives in or near Andover.That is a possible answer to our

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But by making a statement (and a somewhat out of the way andpreposterous one)and by your contradiction of it，tongues are immediatelyloosened.We know also that that particular time was a "busy time"-that is，that everyove would be intent on their own concerns and that there would bea fair number of people passing along the pavements.Our murderer chose histime 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?I sayto you:"Make a purchase quelconque"-and you deliberately choose thestrawberries!Already they commence to creep through their bag and endangeryour good suit." With some dismay，I perceived that this was indeed the case. I hastily presented the strawberries to a small boy who seemed highlyastonished and faintly suspicious.