Mrs. Lorrimer sighed wearily. 'The usual things, I suppose. Routine inquiries. He was very pleasant over it all.'
'I suppose he interviewed everyone.'
'I should think so.' There was another pause.
Anne asked, 'Mrs. Lorrimer, do you think – they will ever find out who did it?'
Her eyes were bent on her plate. She did not see the curious expression in the older woman's eyes as she watched the downcast head.
Mrs. Lorrimer said quietly, 'I don't know.'
Anne murmured, 'It's not – very nice, is it?'
There was that same curious appraising and yet sympathetic look in Mrs. Lorrimer's face, as she asked, 'How old are you, Anne Meredith?'
'I – I?' the girl stammered. 'I'm twenty-five.'
'And I am sixty-three,' said Mrs. Lorrimer.
She went on slowly, 'Most of your life is in front of you.'
Anne shivered. 'I might be run over by a bus on the way home,' she said.
'Yes, that is true. And I – might not.'
Mrs. Lorrimer said it in an odd way. Anne looked at her in astonishment.
'Life is a difficult business,' continued Mrs. Lorrimer. 'You'll know that when you come to my age. It needs infinite courage and a lot of endurance. And in the end one wonders, 'Was it worth while?''
'Oh, don't,' said Anne.
Mrs. Lorrimer laughed, her old competent self again.
'It's rather cheap to say gloomy things about life,' she said. She called the waitress and settled the bill.
As they got to the shop door a taxi crawled past and Mrs. Lorrimer hailed it.
'Can I give you a lift?' she asked. 'I am going south of the Park.'
Anne's face had lighted up.
'No, thank you. I see my friend turning the corner. Thank you so much, Mrs. Lorrimer. Good-by.'
'Good-by. Good luck,' said the older woman.
She drove away and Anne hurried forward.
Rhoda's face lighted up when she saw her friend, then changed to a slightly guilty expression. 'Rhoda, have you been to see Mrs. Oliver?' demanded Anne.
'Well, as a matter of fact, I have.'
'And I just caught you.'
'I don't know what you mean by caught. Let's go down here and take a bus. You'd gone off on your own with the boy friend. I thought at least he'd give you tea.'
Anne was silent for a minute – a voice ringing in her ears, 'Can't we pick up your friend somewhere and all have tea together?'
And her own answer – hurried, without taking time to think, 'Thanks awfully, but we've got to go out to tea together with some people.'
A lie – and such a silly lie. The stupid way one said the first thing that came into one's head instead of just taking a minute or two to think. Perfectly easy to have said, 'Thanks, but my friend has got to go out to eat.' That is, if you didn't want, as she hadn't wanted, to have Rhoda, too.
Rather odd, that, the way she hadn't wanted Rhoda. She had wanted, definitely, to keep Despard to herself. She had felt jealous. Jealous of Rhoda. Rhoda was so bright, so ready to talk, so full of enthusiasm and life. The other evening Major Despard had looked as though he thought Rhoda nice. But it was her, Anne Meredith, he had come down to see. Rhoda was like that. She didn't mean it, but she reduced you to background. No, definitely she hadn't wanted Rhoda there.
But she had managed it very stupidly, getting flurried like that. If she'd managed better, she might be sitting now having tea with Major Despard at his club or somewhere.
She felt definitely annoyed with Rhoda. Rhoda was a nuisance. And what she had been doing, going to see Mrs. Oliver? Out loud she said, 'Why did you go and see Mrs. Oliver?'
'Well, she asked us to.'
'Yes, but I didn't suppose she really meant it. I expect she always has to say that.'
'She did mean it. She was awfully nice – couldn't have been nicer. She gave me one of her books. Look.'
Rhoda flourished her prize.
Anne said suspiciously, 'What did you talk about? Not me?'
'Listen to the conceit of the girl!'
'No, but did you? Did you talk about the – the murder?'
'We talked about her murders. She's writing one where there's poison in the sage and onions. She was frightfully human – and said writing was awfully hard work and said how she got into tangles with plots, and we had black coffee and hot buttered toast,' finished Rhoda in a triumphant burst.
Then she added, 'Oh, Anne, you want your tea.'
'No, I don't. I've had it, with Mrs. Lorrimer,'
'Mrs. Lorrimer? Isn't that the one – the one who was there?'
Anne nodded.
'Where did you come across her? Did you go and see her?'
'No. I ran across her in Harley Street.'
'What was she like?'
Anne said slowly, 'I don't know. She was – rather queer. Not at all like the other night.'
'Do you still think she did it?' asked Rhoda.
Anne was silent for a minute or two. Then she said, 'I don't know. Don't let's talk of it. Rhoda! You know how I hate talking of things.'
'All right, darling. What was the solicitor like? Very dry and legal?'
'Rather alert.'
'Sounds all right.' She waited a little and then asked, 'How was Major Despard?'
'Very kind.'
'He's fallen for you, Anne. I'm sure he has.'
'Rhoda, don't talk nonsense.'
'Well, you'll see.'
Rhoda began humming to herself. She thought, Of course he's fallen for her. Anne's awfully pretty. But a bit wishy-washy – She'll never go on treks with him. Why, she'd scream if she saw a snake. Men always do take fancies to unsuitable women.
Then she said aloud, 'That bus will take us to Paddington. We'll just catch the four-forty-eight.'
Chapter 19
CONSULTATION
The telephone rang in Poirot's room and a respectful voice spoke. 'Sergeant O'Connor. Superintendent Battle's compliments and would it be convenient for Mr. Hercule Poirot to come to Scotland Yard at eleven- thirty?'
Poirot replied in the affirmative and Sergeant O'Connor rang off.
It was 11:30 to the minute when Poirot descended from his taxi at the door of New Scotland Yard – to be at once seized upon by Mrs. Oliver.
'Monsieur Poirot. How splendid! Will you come to my rescue?'
'Enchante, madame. What can I do?'
'Pay my taxi for me. I don't know how it happened but I brought out the bag I keep my going-abroad money in and the man simply won't take francs or liras or marks!'
