Part 9 (2/2)

”You're a great little man, Hercule. I'm glad we got together.” Poirot went on in a business-like way: ”There are a few things that are actually necessary that I should know. Do you drug?” ”No, never.” ”Drink?” ”Quite heavily--but not for the love of it.

My crowd drinks and I drink with them, but I could give it up tomorrow.” ”That is very satisfactory.” She laughed.

”I shan't give the show away in my cups, Hercule.” Poirot proceeded: ”Love affairs?” ”Plenty in the past.” ”And the present?” ”Only Rex.” ”That is Dr. Donaldson?” ”Yes.” ”He seems, somehow, very alien from the life you mention.” ”Oh, he is.” ”And yet you care for him. Why, Iwonder?”

”Oh, what are reasons? Why did Juliet fall for Romeo?” ”Well, for one thing, with all due deference to Shakespeare, he happened to be the first man she had seen.” Theresa said slowly: ”Rex wasn't the first man I saw--not by a long way.” She added in a lower voice, ”But I think--I feel--he'll be the last man I'll ever see.” ”And he is a poor man, mademoiselle.” She nodded.

”And he, too, needs money?” ”Desperately. Oh, not for the reasons I did. He doesn't want luxury--or beauty-- or excitement--or any of these things. He'd wear the same suit until it went into holes --and eat a congealed chop every day for lunch quite happily, and wash in a cracked tin bath. If he had money it would all go on test-tubes and a laboratory and all the rest of it. He's ambitious. His profession means everything to him. It means more to him than--I do.” ”He knew that you would come into money when Miss Arundell died?” ”I told him so. Oh! after we were engaged.

He isn't really marrying me for my money if that is what you are getting at.” ”You are still engaged?” ”Of course we are.” Poirot did not reply. His silence seemed to disquiet her.

”Of course we are,” she repeated sharply.

And then she added, ”You--have you seen him?” ”I saw him yesterday--at Market Basing.”

”Why? What did you say to him?” ”I said nothing. I only asked him for your brother's address.”

”Charles?” Her voice was sharp again.

”What did you want with Charles?” ”Charles? Who wants Charles?” It was a new voice--a delightful, man's voice.

A bronze-faced young man with an agreeable grin strolled into the room.

”Who is talking about me?” he asked. ”I heard my name in the hall, but I didn't eavesdrop. They were very particular about eavesdropping at Borstal. Now then, Theresa my girl, what's all this?

Spill the beans.”

XIV Charles Arundell I must confess that from the moment I set eyes on him I entertained a sneaking liking for Charles Arundell. There was something so debonair and carefree about him. His eyes had an agreeable and humorous twinkle and his grin was one of the most disarming I have ever encountered.

He came across the room and sat down on the arm of one of the ma.s.sive, upholstered chairs.

”What's it all about, old girl?” he asked.

”This is M. Hercule Poirot, Charles. He is prepared to--er--do some dirty work for us in return for a small consideration.” ”I protest,” cried Poirot. ”Not dirty work--shall we say a little harmless deception of some kind--so that the original intention of the testator is carried out? Let us Put it that way.” ”Put it any way you like,” said Charles agreeably. ”What made Theresa think of you, I wonder?” ”She did not,” said Poirot quickly. ”I came here of my own accord.” ”Offering your services?” ”Not quite that. I was asking for you.Your sister told me you had gone abroad.” ”Theresa,” said Charles, ”is a very careful sister. She hardly ever makes a mistake. In fact, she's suspicious as the devil.” He smiled at her affectionately, but she did not smile back. She looked worried and thoughtful.

”Surely,” said Charles, ”we've got things the wrong way round? Isn't M. Poirot famous for tracking down criminals? Surely not for aiding and abetting them?” ”We're not criminals,” said Theresa sharply.

”But we're quite willing to be,” said Charles affably. ”I'd thought of a spot of forgery myself--that's rather my line. I got sent down from Oxford because of a little misunderstanding about a cheque. That was childishly simple, though--merely a question of adding a nought. Then there was another little fracas with Aunt Emily and the local bank. Foolish on my part, of course.

I ought to have realized the old lady was sharp as needles. However, all these incidents have been very small fry--fivers or tenners--that cla.s.s. A deathbed will would be admittedly risky. One would have to get hold of the stiff and starched Ellen and--is suborn the word?--anyway, induce her to say she had witnessed it. It would take some doing, I fear. I might even marry her and then she wouldn't be able to give evidence against me afterwards.” He grinned amiably at Poirot.

”I feel sure you've installed a secret dietaphone and Scotland Yard is listening in,” he said.

”Your problem interests me,” said Poirot with a touch of reproof in his manner.

”Naturally I could not connive at anything against the law. But there are more ways than one--”

He stopped significantly.

Charles Arundell shrugged his graceful shoulders.

”I've no doubt there's an equal choice of devious ways inside the law,” he said agreeably.

”You should know.” ”By whom was the will witnessed? I mean the one made on April 21st?” ”Pur vis brought down his clerk and the second witness was the gardener.” ”It was signed then in Mr.

Purvis's presence?”

”It was.” ”And Mr. Purvis, I fancy, is a man of the highest respectability?” ”Pur vis, Purvis, Charlesworth and once more Purvis are just about as respectable and impeccable as the Bank of England,” said Charles.

”He didn't like making the will,” said Theresa. ”In an ultra-correct fas.h.i.+on I believe he even tried to dissuade Aunt Emily from making it.” Charles said sharply: ”Did he tell you that, Theresa?”

”Yes. I went to see him again yesterday.” ”It's no good, my sweet--you ought to realize that. Only piles up the six and eightpences.” Theresa shrugged her shoulders.

Poirot said: ”I will ask of you to give me as much information as you can about the last weeks of Miss ArundelFs life. Now, to begin with, I understand that you and your brother and also Dr.

Tanios and his wife stayed there for Easter?” ”Yes, we did.” ”Did anything happen of significance during that weekend?” ”I don't think so.” ”Nothing? But I thought--” Charles broke in.

”What a self-centred creature you are, Theresa. Nothing of significance happened to you!

Wrapped in love's young dream! Let me tell you, M. Poirot, that Theresa has a blue-eyed boy in Market Basing. One of the local sawbones. She's got rather a faulty sense of proportion in consequence. As a matter of fact, my revered aunt took a header down the stairs and nearlypa.s.sed out. Wish she had. It would have saved all this fuss.” ”She fell down the stairs?” ”Yes, tripped over the dog's ball. Intelligent little brute left it at the top of the stairs and she took a header over it in the night.” ”This was--when?” ”Let me see--Tuesday--the evening before we left.” ”Your aunt was seriously injured?” ”Unfortunately she didn't fall on her head. If she had we might have pleaded softening of the brain--or whatever it's called scientifically. No, she was hardly hurt at all.55 Poirot said drily: ”Very disappointing for you!” ”Eh? Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, as you say, very disappointing. Tough nuts, these old ladies.” ”And you all left on the Wednesday morning?”

”That's right.” ”That was Wednesday, the fifteenth.

When did you next see your aunt?” ”Well, it wasn't the next week-end. It was the week-end after that.” ”That would be--let me see--the twentyfifth, would it not?” ”Yes, I think that was the date.”

”And your aunt died--when?” ”The following Friday.” ”Having been taken ill on the Monday night?” ”Yes.” ”That was the Monday that you left?” ”Yes.” ”You did not return during her illness?” ”Not until the Friday. We didn't realize she was really bad.” ”You got there in time to see her alive?” ”No, she died before we arrived.” Poirot s.h.i.+fted his glance to Theresa Arun- i^n I ”You accompanied your brother on both these occasions?” ”Yes.” ”And nothing was said during that second week-end about a new will having been made?” ”Nothing,” said Theresa.

Charles, however, had answered at the same moment.

”Oh, yes,” he said. ”It was.” He spoke airily as ever, but there was something a little constrained, as though the airiness were more artificial than usual.

”It was?'9 said Poirot.

”Charles!” cried Theresa.

Charles seemed anxious not to meet his sister's eye.

He spoke to her without looking at her.

”Surely you remember, old girl? I told you. Aunt Emily made a kind of ultimatum of it. Sat there like a judge in court. Made a kind of speech. Said she thoroughly disapproved of all her relations--that is to say, of me and Theresa. Bella, she allowed, she had nothing against, but on the other hand she disliked and distrusted her husband. Buy British was ever Aunt Emily's motto.

If Bella were to inherit any considerable sum of money she said she was convinced that Tanios would somehow or other get possession of it. Trust a Greek to do that! 'She's safer as she is,' she went on to say. Then she said that neither I nor Theresa were fit people to be trusted with money.

We would only gamble and squander it away. Therefore, she finished up, she had made a new will and had left the entire estate to Miss Lawson. 'She is a fool,' said Aunt Emily, 'but she is a faithful soul. And I really believe she is devoted to me. She cannot help her lack of brains. I have thought it fairer to tell you this, Charles, as you may as well realize that it will not be possible for you to raise money on your expectations from me.5 Rather a nasty one, that. Just what I'd been trying to do.” ”Why didn't you tell me, Charles?” demanded Theresa fiercely.

”Thought I did.” Charles avoided her eye.

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