Part 16 (1/2)
Hard to get any one to listen nowadays.
Quite enjoyed myself that afternoon.” She c.o.c.ked a shrewd eye at me.
”What's it all about, eh? What's it all about?” I I was hesitating what exactly to reply when Poirot joined us. He bowed with empress.e.m.e.nt to Miss Peabody.
”Good-morning, mademoiselle. Enchanted to encounter you.” ”Good-mornin',” said Miss Peabody.
”What are you this morning, Parotti or Poirot--eh?” ”It was very clever of you to pierce my disguise so rapidly,” said Poirot, smiling.
”Wasn't much disguise to pierce! Not many like you about, are there? Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad one. Difficult to say.” ”I prefer, mademoiselle, to be unique.” ”You've got your wish, I should say,” said Miss Peabody drily. ”Now then, Mr. Poirot, I gave you all the gossip you wanted the other day. Now it's my turn to ask questions.
What's it all about? Eh? What's it all about?” ”Are you not asking a question to which you already know the answer?” < is=”” that=”” it?”=”” poirot=”” did=”” not=””>
Miss Peabody nodded her head slowly and thoughtfully as though she had received a reply.
”Often wondered,” she said inconsequently, ”what it would feel like....Readin' the papers you know--wondered if any one would ever be dug up in Market Basing....
Didn't think it would be Emily Arundell....” She gave him a sudden, piercing look.
”She wouldn't have liked it, you know. I suppose you've thought of that--hey?” ”Yes, I have thought of it.” ”I suppose you would do--you're not a fool! Don't think you're particularly officious either.” Poirot bowed.
”Thank you, mademoiselle.” ”And that's more than most people would say--looking at your moustache. Why d'you have a moustache like that? D'you like it?” I turned away convulsed with laughter.
”In England the cult of the moustache is lamentably neglected,” said Poirot. His hand surrept.i.tiously caressed the hirsute adornment.
”Oh, I see! Funny,” said Miss Peabody.
”Knew a woman once who had a goitre and was proud of it! Wouldn't believe that, but it's true!
Well, what I say is, it's lucky when if you're pleased with what the Lord has given you. It's usually the other way about.” She shook her head and sighed.
”Never thought there would be a murder in this out-of-the-world spot.” Again she shot a sudden, piercing look at Poirot. ”Which of 'em did it?” ”Am I to shout that to you here in the street?”
”Probably means you don't know. Or do you? Oh, well--bad blood--bad blood. I'd like to know whether that Varley woman poisoned her husband or not. Makes a difference.”
”You believe in heredity?” Miss Peabody said suddenly: ”I'd rather it was Tanios. An outsider! But wishes ain't horses, worse luck. Well, I'll be getting along. I can see you're not goin' to tell me anything.... Who are you actin' for, by the way?” Poirot said gravely: ”I am acting for the dead, mademoiselle.” I am sorry to say that Miss Peabody received this remark with a sudden shriek of laughter. Quickly subduing her mirth she ^ said: Hb, ”Excuse me. It sounded like Isabel ^HB^ripp--that's all! What an awful woman!
Julia's worse, I think. So painfully girlish.
Never did like mutton-dressed lamb fas.h.i.+on.
Well, good-bye. Seen Dr. Grainger at all?” ”Mademoiselle, I have the bone to pick with you. You betrayed my secret.” Miss Peabody indulged in her peculiar throaty chuckle.
”Men are simple! He'd swallowed that preposterous tissue of lies you told him.
Wasn't he mad when I told him? Went away snorting with rage! He's looking for you.” ”He found me last night.” ”Oh! I wish I'd been there.” ”I wish you had, mademoiselle,” said Poirot gallantly.
Miss Peabody laughed and prepared to waddle away. She addressed me over her shoulder.
”Good-bye, young man. Don't you go buying those chairs. They're a fake.” She moved off, chuckling.
”That,” said Poirot, ”is a very clever old woman.” ”Even although she did not admire yourmoustaches?” ”Taste is one thing,” said Poirot coldly.
”Brains are another.” We pa.s.sed into the shop and spent a pleasant twenty minutes looking round. We emerged unscathed in pocket and proceeded in the direction of Littlegreen House.
Ellen, rather redder in the face than usual, admitted us and showed us into the drawingroom.
Presently footsteps were heard descending the stairs and Miss Lawson came in. She seemed somewhat out of breath and fl.u.s.tered. Her hair was pinned up in a silk handkerchief.
”I hope you'll excuse my coming in like this, M. Poirot. I've been going through some locked-up cupboards--so many things --old people are inclined to h.o.a.rd a little, I'm afraid--dear Miss Arundell was no exception--and one gets so much dust in one's hair--astonis.h.i.+ng, you know, the things people collect--if you can believe me, two dozen needlebooks--actually, two dozen.” ”You mean that Miss Arundell had bought two dozen needlebooks?” ”Yes, and put them away and forgot about them--and, of course, now the needles are all rusty--such a pity. She used to give them to the maids as Christmas presents.” ”She was very forgetful--yes?” ”Oh, very. Especially in the way of putting things away. Like a dog with a bone, you know. That's what we used to call it between us. 'Now don't go and dog and bone it,' I used to say to her.” She laughed and then producing a small handkerchief from her pocket suddenly began to sniff.
”Oh, dear,” she said tearfully. ”It seems so dreadful of me to be laughing here.” ”You have too much sensibility,” said Poirot. ”You feel things too much.” ”That's what my mother always used to say to me, M. Poirot. 'You take things to heart too much, Mina,' she used to say. It's a great drawback, M. Poirot, to be so sensitive.
Especially when one has one's living to get.” ”Ah, yes, indeed, but that is all a thing of the past.
You are now your own mistress.
You can enjoy yourself--travel--you have absolutely no worries or anxieties.” ”I suppose that's true,” said Miss Lawson rather doubtfully.
”a.s.suredly it is true. Now talking of Miss Arundell's forgetfulness I see how it was that her letter to me never reached me for so long a time.” He explained the circ.u.mstances of the finding of the letter. A red spot showed in Miss Lawson's cheek. She said sharply: ”Ellen should have told me!
To send that letter off to you without a word was great impertinence! She should have consulted me first. Great impertinence, I call it! Not one word did I hear about the whole thing.
Disgraceful!”
”Oh, my dear lady, I am sure it was done in all good faith.” ”Well, I think it was very peculiar myself! Very peculiar! Servants really do the oddest things. Ellen should have remembered that I am the mistress of the house now.” She drew herself up importantly.
”Ellen was very devoted to her mistress, was she not?” said Poirot.
”Yes, I dare say, but that makes no difference.
I should have been told!” ”The important thing is--that I received the letter,” said Poirot.
”Oh, I agree that it's no good making a fuss after things have happened, but all the same I think Ellen ought to be told that she mustn't take it upon herself to do things without asking first!” Shestopped, a red spot on each cheekbone.
Poirot was silent for a minute, then he said: ”You wanted to see me to-day? In what way can I be of service to you?” Miss Lawson's annoyance subsided as promptly as it had arisen. She began to be fl.u.s.tered and incoherent again.
”Well, really--you see, I just wondered... Well, to tell the truth, M. Poirot, I arrived down here yesterday and, of course, Ellen told me you had been here, and I just wondered--well, as you hadn't mentioned to me that you were coming--Well, it seemed rather odd--and I couldn't see--”
”You could not see what I was doing down here?” Poirot finished for her.
”I--well--no, that's exactly it. I couldn't.” She looked at him, flus.h.i.+ng but inquiring.
”I must make a little confession to you,” said Poirot. ”I have permitted you to remain under a misapprehension, I am afraid. You a.s.sumed that the letter I received from Miss Arundell concerned itself with the question of a small sum of money abstracted by--in all possibility--Mr.
Charles Arundell.” Miss Lawson nodded.
”But that, you see, was not the case....
In fact, the first I heard of the stolen money was from you.... Miss Arundell wrote to me on the subject of her accident.” ”Her accident?” ”Yes, she had a fall down the stairs, I understand.”