Three Character Girl

Investigatory

"Would you just in case Tredwell had a brother?"

"She had several brothers, but they were all dead. The last one killed in the war."

"I'm not yet clear about the state of Waverly Court's courtyard. The car was headed to the south exit. Is there another entrance?"

"There is, which we call the east gate post. The post can be seen from the other side of the house."

"Surprisingly, no one heard the car enter the courtyard."

 "There is a direct path across the courtyard and towards the small chapel. There are a lot of cars that go through that road. Surely the man stopped his car at a favorable place and drove it home along with the danger sign beeping, so attention was focused on something else."

"Otherwise he's already hiding inside the house," Poirot said while pondering. "Is there a place to hide?"

 "Well, we didn't check the house thoroughly before. It doesn't seem necessary. I think he might be hiding first. But who let him in?"

 "We'll talk about this later. One by one - let's follow the method. There is no hiding place in the house" Waverly Court is an ancient building and sometimes there is a place called 'protection hole' or priests' holes. "Yes God! There was indeed one hole opened from one of the plank floors in the hall."

"Near the board room?"

"Server at the door."

 "Voils?."

"But no one knew about the hole except me and my wife."

"Tredwell?"

 "Maybe he's heard it."

"Miss Collins?"

"I've never told him." The patriot pondered for a moment.

 "Well, Monsieur, the next step is I have to go to Waverly Court. If I come there this afternoon, do you mind?"

"Read this letter again." Waverly put down the kidnapper's letter that the Waverly family received that morning which caused them to come to Poirot. It contained a clever and blatant explanation of how to hand over money and ended with the threat that treason in any form would be paid for with the child's life. It is clear that the love of money is at war with the love of a mother, and it is the latter who wins. Poirot held the woman behind her husband for a while. "Madame, if you don't mind, tell me the truth. Do you also trust the butler, Tredwell, like your husband?"

 "I have no reason whatsoever to oppose him, Monsieur Poirot. I don't see any reason why he could be involved in this kidnapping, but - hmm, I never liked him - never!"

 "One more, Madame. Can you give me the address of Johnnie's nanny?" "Netherall Road 149, Hammersmith. You don't imagine - "

"I never imagined. I just use my brain. And sometimes, just a little idea." When the door closed, Poirot came to me. "So Madame never liked that butler. Interesting isn't, uh, Hastings?" I refuse to comment. Poirot has repeatedly made fun of me so that I am now bored. There are always surprises. After we finished dressing up, we headed to Netherall Road. We found Jessica Withers at her house. She was a pleasant-faced woman, thirty-five years old, capable, and kind. I wouldn't believe he was involved in Johnnie's abduction. Jessica deeply regrets that she was dismissed, but admits to the mistake she made. He wants to marry a painter and decorator who happens to live in the area. He came out to meet his fiancee. It seems that his actions are only natural. What I don't really understand is Poirot. To me, all the questions he asked were not appropriate at all. Just revolved around Jessica's routine life on Waverly Court. Frankly I was bored, and excited when Poirot asked me to leave that place.

"Kidnapping is easy, man," he said, hailing a taxi at Hammersmith Road and asking the driver to head to Waterloo. "The child can be easily kidnapped at any time during the last three days he has been at home."

 "I don't see this information in our favor" I said coldly. "Instead, this description is very helpful to us. Very helpful! Hastings, if you wear a tie clip, it's best if it's right in the middle of your tie. Now this clamp it's too far to the right an inch."

Waverly Court is a delightful ancient building and has just been restored to great taste. Mr. Waverly showed us the council room, the terrace, and various other places related to his son's abduction. Finally, at Poirot's request, the host punched a spring on the wall, then a plank slid to the side, and a short walk led us to a foxhole. "You see" said Mr. Waverly,

 "there's nothing here." The small room was quite clean, there were no signs of footprints on the floor. I approached Poirot who was bowing, watching the trail in the corner attentively. "What do you think of this trail, buddy?" Four footprints close together. "Dog trail," I cried.

 "That little dog, Hastings. Pom Dog. Smaller than Pom."

 "Griffon dog?" I expressed my opinion hesitantly.

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