Part 42 (1/2)

Michael because he was ambitious and had a murderer's c.o.c.ksure vanity. Rosamund because she was/righteningly simple in outlook. Timothy because he had hated and resented his brother and had craved the power his brother's money would give. Maude because Timothy was her child and where her child was concerned she would be ruthless. Even Miss Gilchrist, he thought, might have contemplated murder if it could have restored to her the Willow Tree in its ladylike glory 1 And Helen ? He could not see Helen as committing murder.

She was too civilised--too removed from violence. And she and her husband had surely loved Richard Abernethie.

Poirot sighed to himself. There were to be no short cuts to the truth, Instead he would have to adopt a longer, but a 36

reasonably sure method. There would have to be conversa tion. Much conversation. For in the long run, either through

a lie, or through truth, people were bound to give themselves

away ....

He had been introduced by Helen to the gathering, and had

set to work to overcome the almost universal annoyance

caused by his presence--a foreign stranger !--in this family

gathering. He had used his eyes and his ears. He had

watched and listened--openly and behind doors! He had

noticed affinities, antagonisms, the unguarded words that

arose as always when property was to be divided. He had

engineered adroitly tte--ttes, walks upon the terrace, and

had made his deductions and observations. He had talked

with Miss Gilchrist about the vanished glories of her teashop and about the correct composition of brioches and chocolate

dclairs and had visited the kitchen garden with her to discuss

the proper use of herbs in cooking. He had spent some long

half-hours listening to Timothy talking about his own health

and about the effect upon it of paint.

Paint ? Poirot frowned. Somebody else had said some thing about paint--Mr. Entwhistle ?

There had also been discussion of a different kind of paint ing. Pierre Lansquenet as a painter. Cora Lansquenet's

paintings, rapturised over by Miss Gilchrist, dismissed scorn ,fully by Susan. ”Just like picture ,postcards,” she had said.

' She did them from postcards, too.

Miss Gilchrist had been quite upset by that and had said

sharply that dear Mrs. Lansquenet always painted from Nature.

”But I bet she cheated,” said Susan to Poirot when Miss