The superintendent grinned. 'Quite right, Mrs. Oliver. It isn't the untraceable arrow poison of the South American Indians! You may remember that there was rather a scare about infected shaving brushes of cheap make about that time. Craddock's shaving brush was proved to have been the cause of infection.'
'Did Doctor Roberts attend him?'
'Oh, no. Too canny for that. Daresay Craddock wouldn't have wanted him in any case. The only evidence I've got – and that's precious little – is that among the doctor's patients there was a case of anthrax at the time.'
'You mean the doctor infected the shaving brush?'
'That's the big idea. And mind you, it's only an idea. Nothing whatever to go on. Pure conjecture. But it could be.'
'He didn't marry Mrs. Craddock afterward?'
'Oh, dear me, no, I imagine the affection was always on the lady's side. She tended to cut up rough, I hear, but suddenly went off to Egypt quite happily for the winter. She died there. A case of some obscure blood poisoning. It's got a long name, but I don't expect it would convey much to you. Most uncommon in this country, fairly common among the natives in Egypt.'
'So the doctor couldn't have poisoned her?'
'I don't know,' said Battle slowly. 'I've been chatting to a bacteriologist friend of mind – awfully difficult to get straight answers out of these people. They never can say yes or no. It's always 'that might be possible under certain conditions' – 'it would depend on the pathological condition of the recipient' – 'such cases have been known' – 'a lot depends on individual idiosyncrasy' – all that sort of stuff. But as far as I could pin my friend down, I got at this – the germ, or germs I suppose, might have been introduced into the blood before leaving England. The symptoms would not make their appearance for some time to come.'
Poirot asked, 'Was Mrs. Craddock inoculated for typhoid before going to Egypt? Most people are, I fancy.'
'Good for you, Monsieur Poirot.'
'And Doctor Roberts did the inoculation?'
'That's right. There you are again – we can't prove anything. She had the usual two inoculations – and they may have been typhoid inoculations for all we know. Or one of them may have been typhoid inoculation and the other – something else. We don't know. We never shall know. The whole thing is pure hypothesis. All we can say is, It might be.'
Poirot nodded thoughtfully.
'It agrees very well with some remarks made to me by Mr. Shaitana. He was exalting the successful murderer, the man against whom his crime could never be brought home.'
'How did Mr. Shaitana know about it then?' asked Mrs. Oliver.
Poirot shrugged his shoulders. 'That we shall never learn. He himself was in Egypt at one time. We know that, because he met Mrs. Lorrimer there. He may have heard some local doctor comment on curious features of Mrs. Craddock's case – a wonder as to how the infection arose. At some other time he may have heard gossip about Roberts and Mrs. Craddock. He might have amused himself by making some cryptic remark to the doctor and noted the startled awareness in his eye – all that one can never know. Some people have an uncanny gift of divining secrets. Mr. Shaitana was one of those people. All that does not concern us. We have only to say – he guessed. Did he guess right?'
'Well, I think he did,' said Battle. 'I've a feeling that our cheerful genial doctor wouldn't be too scrupulous. I've known one or two like him – wonderful how certain types resemble each other. In my opinion he's a killer all right. He killed Craddock. He may have killed Mrs. Craddock, if she was beginning to be a nuisance and cause a scandal. But did he kill Shaitana? That's the real question. And comparing the crimes, I rather doubt it. In the case of the Craddocks he used medical methods each time. The deaths appeared to be due to natural causes. In my opinion, if he had killed Shaitana, he would have done so in a medical way. He'd have used the germ and not the knife.'
'I never thought it was him,' said Mrs. Oliver. 'Not for a minute. He's too obvious, somehow.'
'Exit Roberts,' murmured Poirot. 'And the others?'
Battle made a gesture of impatience.
'I've pretty well drawn blank. Mrs. Lorrimer's been a widow for twenty years now. She's lived in London most of the time, occasionally going abroad in the winter. Civilized places – the Riviera, Egypt, that sort of thing. Can't find any mysterious deaths associated with her. She seems to have led a perfectly normal respectable life, the life of a woman of the world. Everyone seems to respect her and to have the highest opinion of her character. The worst that they can say about her is that she doesn't suffer fools gladly! I don't mind admitting I've been beaten all along the line there. And yet there must be something! Shaitana thought there was.'
He sighed in a dispirited manner. 'Then there's Miss Meredith. I've got her history taped out quite clearly. Usual sort of story. Army officer's daughter. Left with very little money. Had to earn her living. Not properly trained for anything. I've checked up on her early days at Cheltenham. All quite straightforward. Everyone very sorry for the poor little thing. She went first to some people in the Isle of Wight – kind of nursery-governess and mother's help. The woman she was with is out in Palestine, but I've talked with her sister and she says Mrs. Eldon liked the girl very much. Certainly no mysterious deaths nor anything of that kind.
'When Mrs. Eldon went abroad, Miss Meredith went to Devonshire and took a post as companion to an aunt of a school friend. The school friend is the girl she is living with now – Miss Rhoda Dawes. She was there over two years until Mrs. Deering got too ill and had to have a regular trained nurse. Cancer, I gather. She's alive still, but very vague. Kept under morphia a good deal, I imagine. I had an interview with her. She remembered Anne, said she was a nice child. I also talked to a neighbor of hers who would be better able to remember the happenings of the last few years. No deaths in the parish except one or two of the older villagers, with whom as far as I can make out Anne Meredith never came into contact.
'Since then there's been Switzerland. Thought I might get on the track of some fatal accident there, but nothing doing. And there's nothing in Wallingford either.'
'So Anne Meredith is acquitted?' asked Poirot.
Battle hesitated. 'I wouldn't say that. There's something. There's a scared look about her that can't quite be accounted for by panic over Shaitana. She's too watchful. Too much on the alert. I'd swear there was something. But there it is – she's led a perfectly blameless life.'
Mrs. Oliver took a deep breath – a breath of pure enjoyment.
'And yet,' she said. 'Anne Meredith was in the house when a woman took poison by mistake and died.'
She had nothing to complain of in the effect her words produced.
Superintendent Battle spun round in his chair and stared at her in amazement.
'Is this true, Mrs. Oliver? How do you know?'
'I've been sleuthing,' said Mrs. Oliver. 'I get on with girls. I went down to see those two and told them a cock-and-bull story about suspecting Doctor Roberts. The Rhoda girl was friendly – oh, and rather impressed by thinking I was a celebrity. The little Meredith hated my coming and showed it quite plainly. She was suspicious. Why should she be if she hasn't got anything to hide? I asked either of them to come and see me in London. The Rhoda girl did, and she blurted the whole thing out – how Anne had been rude to me the other day because something I'd said had reminded her of a painful incident, and then she went on to describe the incident.'
'Did she say when and where it happened?'
'Four or five years ago in Devonshire.'
The superintendent muttered something under his breath and scribbled on his pad. His wooden calm was shaken. Mrs. Oliver sat enjoying her triumph. It was a moment of great sweetness to her.
Battle recovered his temper. 'I take off my hat to you, Mrs. Oliver,' he said. 'You've put one over on us this time. That is very valuable information. And it just shows how easily you can miss a thing.'
He frowned a little.
'She can't have been there – wherever it was – long. A couple of months at most. It must have been between the Isle of Wight and going to Mrs. Deering. Yes, that could be it right enough. Naturally Mrs. Eldon's sister only remembers she went off to a place in Devonshire – she doesn't remember exactly who or where.'
'Tell me,' said Poirot. 'was this Mrs. Eldon an untidy woman?'
Battle bent a curious gaze upon him. 'It's odd your saying that, Monsieur Poirot. I don't see how you could have known. The sister was rather a precise party. In talking I remember her saying, 'My sister is so dreadfully
