112 pages • 3 hours read
Agatha ChristieA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
Hastings wakes on the 25th of July, realizing Poirot is at his bedside. Poirot tells him that the promised murder has occurred some hours before. The victim is a young waitress named Elizabeth Barnard. She was found strangled by her own belt on the beach in Bexhill-on-Sea. Poirot and Hastings journey there by car with their official Scotland Yard liaison, Inspector Crome. Crome, Hastings declares, was “a much younger man, he was the silent, superior type. Well educated and well read, he was, for my taste, several shades too pleased with himself […] his manner to Poirot was a shade patronising” (62). Crome pontificates about the psychology of crime and is somewhat disdainful when Poirot asks if Betty Barnard was pretty. Poirot retorts that this is often very important in investigations involving women. Crome also ignores Poirot’s impression that the weapon of choice—the girl’s belt—has any significance. Hastings tries to argue in support of his friend but finds Poirot does not appreciate this.
When they arrive at the scene, Poirot and the others are told by another officer that the ABC railway guide was found near the body. Crome is unhappy that Poirot wishes to accompany him on witness interviews, and when the inspector offers to let him see the belt, Poirot demurs. Their first stop is the cafe where Barnard worked. The owner, somewhat prim and fastidious, denies knowing much about the young girl and her plans. She ushers in the other waitress, who tells them Barnard’s boyfriend worked in the local real estate office. No other witnesses can provide them with useful information about where Barnard spent the evening.
The investigators visit the bereaved family in their home. The Barnards are a retired couple whose older daughter works in London as a typist. The weeping parents report that Betty frequently came home late in the evenings after they had retired. They speak warmly of Betty’s romantic interest, Donald Fraser, and are baffled as to why their daughter died. On the way upstairs, a woman stops in front of the house. Hastings notices her instantly, describing her appearance: “Her hair was black and cut in a straight bob and a bang across the forehead. Her cheek-bones were high and her whole figure had a queer modern angularity that was not, somehow, unattractive” (76). She introduces herself as Megan Barnard, Betty’s older sister and informs Hastings that “my sister was a nice bright girl with no men friends” as though giving a statement to a journalist—which she assumes he is.
Hastings and Megan go to the kitchen together. Poirot finds them and introduces himself. She recognizes Poirot by name and reputation and expresses surprise that a famous detective is involved in this matter. Poirot tells her that her testimony is of great importance to him, as people are increasingly reluctant to tell the truth about the dead. Megan responds immediately, declaring that her sister was really “an unmitigated little ass!” (78).
The conversation continues. Megan explains that she continually tried to tell her sister her behavior with men was foolish. She produces Betty’s photograph. Betty is more conventionally pretty, and Megan declares she has always known this. Betty was flirtatious and enjoyed casual attention, despite knowing how much this bothered her boyfriend, Donald Fraser, whom she intended to marry. Megan hesitates in describing more about their relationship, until Poirot explains the presence of the railway guides. Megan can answer without incriminating Donald.
Megan does explains that Betty still enjoyed flirtations with other men and accepted their invitations to dinner. The couple quarreled bitterly over it, especially when Fraser discovered that Betty was not always telling the truth about where she went. Fraser was so angry when Betty lied about visiting the neighboring town of Eastbourne with a man that he threatened to kill her. Poirot notes that this would typically make him a suspect, except for the presence of the letter and the railway guide. The doorbell rings then, and Megan announces it is Fraser. Poirot tells her to bring him in.
Fraser is pale and shocked, and Poirot pours him whisky before asking him questions. He flushes with anger when Poirot asks if Betty may have lied to him about being out with friends the previous evening. Megan tells him that Poirot must have the absolute truth, no matter how painful. Fraser recounts fruitless efforts at following Betty around the area, and Hasting notes, “Precise as his tone had remained, I caught an undertone of that blind, bewildering misery and anger that had possessed him at the time he described” (89). Fraser reports returning home around midnight. Finally, they are interrupted by the police inspectors, and Poirot retreats. When Hastings asks his friend for his impressions, he says that he is preoccupied with “‘the amazing magnanimity of the murderer” (90). Hastings does not know what this means.
Due to the age of the victim and the location, the Barnard case becomes a public spectacle. The police and Poirot find themselves wondering whether to publicize the connection between the Barnard and Ascher cases. Poirot and the psychiatrist Dr. Thompson agree that either denying attention or affirming it will provoke more attacks. Crome assures Thompson there is no way the killer will make it far in the alphabet. Poirot is unimpressed, and Hastings believes Crome is equally unhappy when Thompson asks Poirot’s opinion about whether the killer will eventually grow careless and be apprehended.
Poirot remains preoccupied with the killer’s motivations, declaring that animus is usually personal. This does not, however, explain the current predicament, as he declares, “But consider now this case—if the victims are alphabetically selected, then they are not being removed because they are a source of annoyance to the murderer personally” (96). Thompson agrees, asserting that all killers either remove those who are obstacles to them or who represent a particular type of person they hate or resent. Poirot suggests that the hatred may be directed at him or all non-English people—or at some characteristic of the victims the murderer resents.
Crome dismisses these issues as irrelevant, insisting there is no logic to the victim selection, but Poirot is undeterred. He points out that the killer could have escaped detection, framing either Donald Fraser or Franz Ascher but did not do so, making him a “magnanimous murderer” (98). Returning to the initial debate, Crome urges publicizing the next letter from the killer, insisting that this will result in overconfidence and successful apprehension. Hastings, hinting at his knowledge of the plot’s resolution, announces, “how little we knew what the future held” (98).
The Bexhill investigation broadens the cast of characters, the stakes for Poirot, and points to the challenges ahead. Crome emerges as more of an adversary to Poirot, dismissive of his observations that Betty Barnard’s looks are significant, yet not understanding what Poirot sees about the killer’s choice of weapon. Hastings, as ever, reacts to events and follows Poirot’s lead, rather than introducing much analysis of his own. The new characters further complicate the narrative and its views of class. Megan Barnard, a young professional, is sharply observant, in contrast to the sincere servant Mary Drower. She understands publicity, the search for scapegoats, and that telling the truth about Betty or Donald could lead to social scandal or worse. Donald Fraser is also a young professional, unlike the working-class witnesses Poirot previously interviewed.
Poirot’s preoccupation with motive becomes key to his conflict with Crome, who insists that the killings are random and that motive is irrelevant. Poirot even gives the killer a kind of credit, noting the relative generosity of taking the blame for the crimes rather than letting more obvious suspects be arrested. For Poirot, internal drives and interests are at least as important as personal glory. Through his distaste for the detective’s attitude, Hastings works to suggest that Crome’s ambition is egotistical. Poirot, for all his arrogance, is preoccupied with intellectual consistency and solving the puzzle accurately. He insists that humans are knowable and that behavior—even behavior stemming from mental health conditions—matters. Crome dismisses the possibility of meaning within “madness” and is confident that the third letter will resolve matters. Christie, through Hastings, assures the reader that this is not precisely the case. In this subset of the mystery genre, the private detective will always be more responsive to the situation than the police.
By Agatha Christie