'What do you know?' Maude Abernethie and Gregory Banks spoke almost in unison.

Rosamund gave her vacant and angelic smile.

'Wouldn't you all like to know?' she said agreeably. 'Come on, Michael.'

Chapter 22

I

At eleven o'clock, Hercule Poirot called an informal meeting in the library. Everyone was there and Poirot looked thoughtfully round the semi-circle of faces.

'Last night,' he said, 'Mrs Shane announced to you that I was a private detective. For myself, I hoped to retain my – camouflage, shall we say? – a little longer. But no matter! Today – or at most the day after – I would have told you the truth. Please listen carefully now to what I have to say.

'I am in my own line a celebrated person – I may say a most celebrated person. My gifts, in fact, are unequalled!'

George Crossfield grinned and said:

'That's the stuff, M. Pont – no, it's M. Poirot, isn't it? Funny, isn't it, that I've never even heard of you?'

'It is not funny,' said Poirot severely. 'It is lamentable! Alas, there is no proper education nowadays. Apparently one learns nothing but economics – and how to set Intelligence Tests! But to continue. I have been a friend for many years of Mr Entwhistle's -'

'So he's the nigger in the wood pile -'

'If you like to put it that way, Mr Crossfield. Mr Entwhistle was greatly upset by the death of his old friend, Mr Richard Abernethie. He was particularly perturbed by some words spoken on the day of the funeral by Mr Abernethie's sister, Mrs Lansquenet. Words spoken in this very room.'

'Very silly – and just like Cora,' said Maude. 'Mr Entwhistle should have had more sense than to pay attention to them!'

Poirot went on:

'Mr Entwhistle was even more perturbed after the – the coincidence, shall I say? – of Mrs Lansquenet's death. He wanted one thing only – to be assured that that death was a coincidence. In other words he wanted to feel assured that Richard Abernethie had died a natural death. To that end he commissioned me to make the necessary investigations.'

There was a pause.

'I have made them…'

Again there was a pause. No one spoke.

Poirot threw back his head.

'Eh bien, you will all be delighted to hear that as a result of my investigations there is absolutely no reason to believe that Mr Abernethie died anything but a natural death. There is no reason at all to believe that he was murdered!' He smiled. He threw out his hands in a triumphant gesture. 'That is good news, is it not?'

It hardly seemed to be, by the way they took it. They stared at him and in all but the eyes of one person there still seemed to be doubt and suspicion.

The exception was Timothy Abernethie, who was nodding his head in violent agreement.

'Of course Richard wasn't murdered,' he said angrily. 'Never could understand why anybody even thought of such a thing for a moment! Just Cora up to her tricks, that was all. Wanting to give you all a scare. Her idea of being funny. Truth is that although she was my own sister, she was always a bit mental, poor girl. Well, Mr whatever your name is, I'm glad you've had the sense to come to the right conclusion, though if you ask me, I call it damned cheek of Entwhistle to go commissioning you to come prying and poking about. And if he thinks he's going to charge the estate with your fee, I can tell you he won't get away with it! Damned cheek, and most uncalled for! Who's Entwhistle to set himself up? If the family's satisfied -'

'But the family wasn't, Uncle Timothy,' said Rosamund.

'Hey – what's that?'

Timothy peered at her under beetling brows of displeasure.

'We weren't satisfied. And what about Aunt Helen this morning?'

Maude said sharply:

'Helen's just the age when you're liable to get a stroke. That's all there is to that.'

'I see,' said Rosamund. 'Another coincidence, you think?'

She looked at Poirot.

'Aren't there rather too many coincidences?'

'Coincidences,' sid Hercule Poirot, 'do happen.'

'Nonsense,' said Maude. 'Helen felt ill, came down and rang up the doctor, and then -'

'But she didn't ring up the doctor,' said Rosamund. 'I asked him -'

Susan said sharply:

'Who did she ring up?'

'I don't know,' said Rosamund, a shade of vexation passing over her face. 'But I dare say I can find out,' she added hopefully.

II

Hercule Poirot was sitting in the Victorian summer-house. He drew his large watch from his pocket and laid it on the table in front of him.

He had announced that he was leaving by the twelve o'clock train. There was still half an hour to go. Half an hour for someone to make up their minds and come to him. Perhaps more than one person…

The summer-house was clearly visible from most of the windows of the house. Surely, soon, someone would come? If not, his knowledge of human nature was deficient, and his main premises incorrect.

He waited – and above his head a spider in its web waited for a fly.

It was Miss Gilchrist who came first. She was flustered and, upset and rather incoherent.

'Oh, Mr Pontarlier – I can't remember your other name,' she said. 'I had to come and speak to you although I don't like doing it – but really I feel I ought to. I mean, after what happened to poor Mrs Leo this morning – and I think myself Mrs Shane was quits right – and not coincidence, and certainly not a stroke – as Mrs Timothy suggested, because my own father had a stroke and it was quite a different appearance, and anyway the doctor said concussion quite clearly!'

She paused, took breath and looked at Poirot with appealing eyes.

'Yes,' said Poirot gently and encouragingly. 'You want to tell me something?

'As I say, I don't like doing it – because she's been so kind. She found me the position with Mrs Timothy and everything. She's been really very kind. That's why I feel so ungrateful. And even gave me Mrs Lansquenet's musquash jacket which is really most handsome and fits beautifully because it never matters if fur is a little on the large side. And when I wanted to return her the amethyst brooch she wouldn't hear of it '

'You are referring,' said Poirot gently, 'to Mrs Banks?'

'Yes, you see…' Miss Gilchrist looked down, twisting her fingers unhappily. She looked up and said with a sudden gulp:

'You see. I listened!'

'You mean you happened to overhear a conversation -'

'No.' Miss Gilchrist shook her head with an air of heroic determination. 'I'd rather speak the truth. And it's

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