Agatha Christie's Poirot

James Gordon Bentley, you have been tried for murder.

Abigail McGinty was found by the baker

on the floor of her sitting room

with extensive wounds to the head.

Her house in Broadhinny evinced no sign of forced entry.

All the Police Surgeon was able to ascertain

was that she had been hit with a sharp, heavy implement

probably some time the night before.

You, Bentley, were suspected from the very beginning.

You knew where she kept her money.

You had recently lost your employment.

And then the investigating officer…

Superintendent Spence

found £60 in legal tender

under a stone by the garden path.

So you had the motive, and you had the opportunity.

CLERK, VOICE-OVER: Will the defendant please rise.

How do you find the defendant?

We find the defendant guilty.

James Gordon Bentley, for the premeditated murder

of Abigail McGinty…

I sentence you to be taken from here to a place of execution,

and there to be hanged by the neck until you are dead.

Well done, Superintendent. You brought a first-rate case.

SPENCE, VOICE-OVER: There was never much doubt

about the outcome.

But I don't think he did it.

He was just a lad from the village.

I dare say to the jury, Bentley looked like a murderer.

He's a bit unappealing, a bit shifty but

in my experience, your actual murderers

tend to look, well, cocky.

Not this little fellow.

Something in my water says he just isn't the murdering type.

Which is why I've come to you.

I can't shake off this feeling

that I've sent an innocent man to the gallows.

Pale ale, sir, will that be acceptable?

Marvelous. Thanks.

A creme de men the, sir.

Merci, George.

But this man, he had a trial that was fair?

I'd say so. He had a decent counsel.

So according to the law, this James Bentley

he has nothing to complain of?

If he's hanged for something he didn't do

he's got something to complain of.

But your job, it is over.

Yes. They've put me on a fraud case.

I'm off to Glasgow.

It's a very fraudulent place, Glasgow.

So, what is it that you suggest?

I wondered if you'd look into it.

You perceive things in… pardon me

a funny kind of way.

You might find something I've missed.

But it's the devil of an imposition, to ask you to…

Do you know what is the biggest problem of my life?

- No. - An abundance of leisure.

I will look into this for you, Superintendent, with great joy.

But what if I discover that…

James Bentley is guilty after all?

I'll put his head in the noose myself.

I lived with my mum.

I looked after her until she died.

And then I had to sell up.

And so you became the lodger of Mrs. McGinty?

Yes. I was taken on

at Breather and Scuttle in Kilchester.

It's about 4 miles from Broadhinny on the train.

Sorry, but I am not familiar with Breather and Scuttle.

- They sell houses. - Ah.

Well, I never sold no houses,

but I showed a few people 'round.

Most of them never came back, so Mr. Scuttle let me go,

and I couldn't get another job.

And so your money, it ran out?

Yeah. Yeah. 3 pound a week she charged me.

And so you became, what is the phrase

en arrière, in arrears with your rent?

I was 2 months behind.

Alas. So tell to me, if you please

what were you doing on the night Mrs. McGinty died?

Oh, what's the point? I'm for the chop.

No, no, no. If you have the fresh evidence

you can still lodge an appeal.

Yeah, but I haven't got fresh evidence, have I?

I have told you, I am Hercule Poirot.

Perhaps I can discover for you some?

Well, thank you, sir, thank you very much.

Bon.

Good.

Et maintenant: The night of the death of Mrs. McGinty.

She had her supper about half 6.00.

Her bread, kipper, and margarine.

I goes out for a walk about 7:00.

I came back about 9:00.

I go straight to bed.

Next morning, there she is, dead.

That's it.

How did you feel at that moment?

Well, I hadn't had any breakfast.

I was starving.

Sir.

Thank you, sir.

Oh, I'm so sorry, we've just closed.

If you are looking for a property,

I'm sure Mr. Scuttle can see you tomorrow.

Non, non, non, mademoiselle. Thank you.

It is not a property that I seek.

Hercule Poirot. I make a further inquiry

into a former employee of the Breather and Scuttle.

Monsieur James Bentley.

Oh. Is there new evidence? Is he going to appeal?

Oh, I'm so glad.

You liked him?

Amy called him a drip. But, yes, I liked him.

He writes, you know. He's a decent chap, really.

It makes me very happy to hear that, mademoiselle.

Tell to me if you please, did he ever talk

about his landlady… Mrs. McGinty?

He said she gave him kippers too often.

James doesn't like kippers.

Did he ever mention to you

that he knew where she kept her money?

Actually, he did.

He said she kept it under a floorboard

because she didn't trust the bank.

He reckoned he could help himself to it any time.

Oh, Lord, I shouldn't have said that, should I?

De rien, mademoiselle, de rien.

Now I must hurry myself to catch my train to Broadhinny.

But, tell me, mademoiselle, how do you call yourself?

Maude Williams.

Mademoiselle Williams, the question, it is this:

if James Bentley did not kill Mrs. McGinty, who did?

I hope you'll be comfortable, Mr. Poirot.

If there's anything you'd like to change, please, say so.

The only thing I would change, madame

were it within my power

would be to provide you with a suitable domestic.

I know. It's a terrible bother.

We had a really good daily, but she was murdered.

Just my luck.

She came every Monday, every Thursday.

Regular as clockwork.

Why are there bloody geese in the hall? Maureen?

Oh, hello.

Monsieur.

New PG? I hope you enjoy your stay.

It's a decent part of the world.

Our terms are weekly in advance, if you don't mind.

Dinner shouldn't be too long now.

Madame.

The window in my room, it does not close properly.

There is the current of the cold air.

I know. Johnny's father and mother

were badly off, poor dears.

Never did a thing to the house.

And when we came back from India…

Johnny couldn't afford to, either.

And now he's writing his memoirs.

"Highways and Byways of Hindustan."

That's why the place is falling down,

and that's why we take in PGs.

- PGs? - Paying Guests.

Good boy.

Things are a bit buggered at the minute, financially.

Can't be easy for Johnny, in the village.

They're all very nice people in Broadhinny.

I say, do you mind me slicing these in here?

The smell in the kitchen is just completely unacceptable.

Not at all, madame.

Perhaps I should tell you a little bit more about myself.

I am a detective.

- Are you? - Mais oui.

Oh.

Hercule Poirot.

The most famous detective in the world.

And I am here to investigate the murder of Mrs. McGinty.

Ouch! Ooh.

Madame, you will forgive me, but I do not think

that tonight I will require the dinner.

Take one twice a day, Bessie, and the hot flushes should stop.

Thank you, Doctor. Thank you.

Good day.

Monsieur le docteur.

S'il vous plaît, madame.

I says to Auntie, you oughtn't have

a man like that in the house.

Wandering about muttering to himself.

Might go off his head.

And, of course, he did. Dreadful.

Then he goes and hides the loot under a stone.

I mean, what kind of halfwit does that?

If you please, may I ask of you

some questions about your auntie?

She's dead, poor soul. She was 64.

My uncle died young of pneumonia,

so Auntie goes out as a charlady.