Part 13 (1/2)
”Of course. Of course,” I said hurriedly.”And then,” continued Poirot, ”various other things happen. Charles and Theresa come for the week-end, and Miss Arundell shows the new will to Charles--er--so he says.
”Don't you believe him?” ”I only believe statements that are checked. Miss Arundell does not show it to Theresa.” ”Because she thought Charles would tell her.” ”But he doesn't. Why doesn't he?” ”According to Charles himself he did tell her.” ”Theresa said quite positively that he didn't--a very interesting and suggestive little clash. And when we depart she calls him a fool.”
”I'm getting fogged, Poirot,” I said plaintively.
”Let us return to the sequence of events.
Dr. Tanios comes down on Sunday--possibly without the knowledge of his wife.” ”I should say certainly without her knowledge.”
”Let us say probably. To proceed! Charles and Theresa leave on the Monday. Miss Arundell is in good health and spirits. She eats a good dinner and sits in the dark with the Tripps and Miss Lawson. Towards the end of the seance she is taken ill. She retires to bed and dies four days later and Miss Lawson inherits all her money, and Captain -Hastings says she died a natural death!”
”Whereas Hercule Poirot says she was given poison in her dinner on no evidence at all!” ”I have some evidence, Hastings. Think over our conversation with the Misses Tripp.
And also one statement that stood out from Miss Lawson's somewhat rambling conversation.”
”Do you mean the fact that she had curry for dinner? Curry would mask the taste of a drug. Is that what you meant?” Poirot said slowly: ”Yes, the curry has a certain significance, perhaps.”
”But,” I said, ”if what you advance (in defiance of all the medical evidence) is true, only Miss Lawson or one of the maids could have killed her.” ”I wonder.” ”Or the Tripp women? Nonsense.
I can't believe thati All these people are palpably innocent.” Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
”Remember this, Hastings, stupidity--or even silliness, for that matter--can go hand in hand with intense cunning. And do not forget the original attempt at murder. That was not the handiwork of a particularly clever or complex brain. It was a very simple ^tt}^ mnrrler- suggested by Bob and his habit of leaving the ball at the top of the stairs.
The thought of putting a thread across the stairs was quite simple and easy-a child could have thought of it!” I frowned.
”You mean-” ”I mean that what we are seeking to find here is just one thing-the wish to kill.
Nothing more than that.” ”But the poison must have been a very skilful one to leave no trace,” I argued.
”Something that the ordinary person would have difficulty in getting hold of. Oh, d.a.m.n it all, Poirot, I simply can't believe it now.
You can't know! It's all pure hypothesis.” ”You are wrong, my friend. As the result of our various conversations this morning I have now something definite to go upon.
Certain faint but unmistakable indications.The only thing is-I am afraid.” ”Afraid? Of what?” He said gravely: ”Of disturbing the dogs that sleep. That is one of your proverbs, is it not? To let the sleeping dogs lie! That is what our murderer does at present-sleeps happily in the sun.... Do we not know, you and I, Hastings, how often a murderer, his confidence disturbed, turns and kills a second-or even a third timel” ”You are afraid of that happening?” He nodded.
”Yes. //there is a murderer in the woodpile-and I think there is, Hastings. Yes, I think there is....”
XIX Visit to Mr. Purvis poirot called for his bill and paid it.
”What do we do next?” I asked.
”We are going to do what you suggested earlier in the morning. We are going to Harchester to interview Mr. Purvis. That is why I telephoned from the Durham Hotel.” ”You telephoned to Purvis?” ”No, to Theresa Arundell. I asked her to write me a letter of introduction to him. To approach him with any chance of success we must be accredited by the family. She promised to send it round to my flat by hand. It should be awaiting us there now.” We found not only the letter but Charles Arundell who had brought it round in person.
”Nice place you have here, M. Poirot,” he remarked, glancing round the sittingroom of the flat.
At that moment my eye was caught by an imperfectly shut drawer in the desk. A small slip of paper was preventing it from shutting.
Now if there was one thing absolutely incredible it was that Poirot should shut a drawer in such a fas.h.i.+on! I looked thoughtfully at Charles. He had been alone in this room awaiting our arrival. I had no doubt that he had been pa.s.sing the time by snooping among Poirot's papers. What a young crook the fellow was! I felt myself burning with indignation.
Charles himself was in a most cheerful mood.
”Here we are,” he remarked, presenting a letter. ”All present and correct--and I hope you'll have more luck with old Purvis than we did.” ”He held out very little hope, I suppose?” ”Definitely discouraging.... In his opinion the Lawson bird had clearly got away with the doings.” ”You and your sister have never considered an appeal to the lady's feelings?” Charles grinned.
”I considered it--yes. But there seemed to be nothing doing. My eloquence was in vain. The pathetic picture of the disinherited black sheep--and a sheep not so black as he was painted (or so I endeavoured to suggest)--failed to move the woman! You know, she definitely seems to dislike me! I don't know why.” He laughed. ”Most old women fall for me quite easily. They think I've never been properly understood and that I've never had a fair chance!” ”A useful point of view.”
”Oh, it's been extremely useful before now. But, as I say, with the Lawson bird, nothing doing. I think she's rather anti-man.
Probably used to chain herself to railings and wave a suffragette flag in good old prewar days.”
”Ah, well,” said Poirot, shaking his head.
”If simpler methods fail--” ”We must take to crime,” said Charles cheerfully.”Aha,” said Poirot. ”Now, speaking of crime, young man, is it true that you threatened your aunt--that you said that you would 'b.u.mp her off,' or words to that effect?”
Charles sat down in a chair, stretched his legs out in front of him and stared hard at Poirot.
”Now who told you that?” he said.
”No matter. Is it true?” ”Well, there are elements of truth about it.
”Come, come, let me hear the true story --the true story, mind.” ”Oh, you can have it, sir. There was nothing melodramatic about it. I'd been attempting a touch--if you gather what I mean.” ”I comprehend.” ”Well, that didn't go according to plan.
Aunt Emily intimated that any efforts to separate her and her money would be quite unavailing!
Well, I didn't lose my temper, but I put it to her plainly. 'Now look here. Aunt Emily,' I said, 'you know, you're going about things in such a way that you'll end by getting b.u.mped off!' She said, rather sniffily, what did I mean. 'Just that,' I said.
'Here are your friends and relations all hanging around with their mouths open, all as poor as church mice--whatever church mice may be--all hoping. And what do you do?
Sit down on the dibs and refuse to part.
That's the way people get themselves murdered.
Take it from me, if you're b.u.mped off, you'll only have yourself to blame.' ”She looked at me then, over the top of her spectacles in a way she had. Looked at me rather nastily. 'Oh,' she said drily enough, 'so that's your opinion, is it?' 'It is,' I said. 'You loosen up a bit, that's my advice to you.'
'Thank you, Charles,' she said, 'for your well-meant advice. But I think you'll find I'm well able to take care of myself.5 Tiease yourself. Aunt Emily,' I said. I was grinning all over my face-and I fancy she wasn't as grim as she tried to look. 'Don't say I didn't warn you.' 'I'll remember it,' she said.” He paused.
”That's all there was to it.” ”And so,” said Poirot, ”you contented yourself with a few pound notes you found in a drawer.” Charles stared at him, then burst out laughing.
”I take off my hat to you,” he said.
”You're some sleuth! How did you get hold of that?” ”It is true, then?” ”Oh, it's true enough! I was d.a.m.ned hard up. Had to get money somehow. Found a nice little wad of notes in a drawer and helped myself to a few. I was very modest -didn't think my little subtraction would be noticed. Even then, they'd probably think it was the servants.” Poirot said drily: ”It would be very serious for the servants if such an idea had been entertained.” Charles shrugged his shoulders.
”Every one for himself,” he murmured.
”And Ie diable takes the hindermost,” said Poirot. ”That is your creed, is it?” Charles was looking at him curiously.
”I didn't know the old lady had ever spotted it. How did you come to know about it --and aboutthe b.u.mping-off conversation?”
”Miss Lawson told me.” ”The sly old p.u.s.s.y cat!” He looked, I thought, just a shade disturbed.
”She doesn't like me and she doesn't like Theresa,” he said presently. ”You don't think --she's got anything more up her sleeve?” ”What could she have?” ”Oh, I don't know. It's just that she strikes me as a malicious old devil.” He paused. ”She hates Theresa...”he added.