untidy and slapdash.' But how did you know?'
'Because she needed a mother's-help,' said Mrs. Oliver.
Poirot shook his head.
'No, no, it was not that. It is of no moment. I was only curious. Continue, Superintendent Battle.'
'In the same way,' went on Battle, 'I took it for granted that she went to Mrs. Deering straight from the Isle of Wight. She's sly, that girl. She deceived me all right. Lying the whole time.'
'Lying is not always a sign of guilt,' said Poirot.
'I know that, Monsieur Poirot. There's the natural liar. I should say she was one, as a matter of fact. Always says the thing that sounds best. But all the same it's a pretty grave risk to take, suppressing facts like that.'
'She wouldn't know you had any idea of past crimes' said Mrs. Oliver.
'That's all the more reason for not suppressing that little piece of information. It must have been accepted as a bona fide case of accidental death, so she'd nothing to fear – unless she were guilty.'
'Unless she were guilty of the Devonshire death, yes,' said Poirot.
Battle turned to him. 'Oh, I know. Even if that accidental death turns out to be not so accidental it doesn't follow that she killed Shaitana. But these other murders are murders too. I want to be able to bring home a crime to the person responsible for it.'
'According to Mr. Shaitana, that is impossible,' remarked Poirot.
'It is in Roberts's case. It remains to be seen if it is in Miss Meredith's. I shall go down to Devon tomorrow.'
'Will you know where to go?' asked Mrs. Oliver. 'I didn't like to ask Rhoda for more details.'
'No, that was wise of you. I shan't have much difficulty. There must have been an inquest. I shall find it in the coroner's records. That's routine police work. They'll have it all taped out for me by tomorrow morning.'
'What about Major Despard?' asked Mrs. Oliver. 'Have you found out anything about him?'
'I've been waiting for Colonel Race's report. I've had him shadowed, of course. One rather interesting thing, he went down to see Miss Meredith at Wallingford. You remember he said he'd never met her until the other night.'
'But she is a very pretty girl,' murmured Poirot.
Battle laughed.
'Yes, I expect that's all there is to it. By the way, Despard's taking no chances. He's already consulted a solicitor. That looks as though he's expecting trouble.'
'He is a man who looks ahead,' said Poirot. 'He is a man who prepares for every contingency.'
'And therefore not the kind of man to stick a knife into a man in a hurry,' said Battle with a sigh.
'Not unless it was the only way,' said Poirot. 'He can act quickly, remember.'
Battle looked across the table at him.
'Now, Monsieur Poirot, what about your cards? Haven't seen your hand down on the table yet.'
Poirot smiled. 'There is so little in it. You think I conceal facts from you? It is not so. I have not learned many facts. I have talked with Doctor Roberts, with Mrs. Lorrimer, with Major Despard, I have still to talk to Miss Meredith and what have I learned? This. That Doctor Roberts is a keen observer; that Mrs. Lorrimer on the other hand has a most remarkable power of concentration but is, in consequence, almost blind to her surroundings. But she is fond of flowers. Despard notices only those things which appeal to him – rugs, trophies of sport – he has neither what I call the outward vision, seeing details all around you – what is called an observant person, nor the inner vision – concentration, the focusing of the mind on one object. He has a purposefully limited vision, he sees only what blends and harmonizes with the bent of his mind.'
'So those are what you call facts, eh?' said Battle curiously.
'They are facts. Very small fry, perhaps.'
'What about Miss Meredith?'
'I have left her to the end. But I shall question her, too, as to what she remembers in that room.'
'It's an odd method of approach,' said Battle thoughtfully. 'Purely psychological. Suppose they're leading you up the garden path?'
Poirot shook his head with a smile. 'No, that would be impossible. Whether they try to hinder or to help, they necessarily reveal their type of mind.'
'There's something in it, no doubt,' said Battle thoughtfully. 'I couldn't work that way myself, though.'
Poirot said, still smiling, 'I feel I have done very little in comparison with you and with Mrs. Oliver – and with Colonel Race. My cards, that I place on the table, are very low ones.'
Battle twinkled at him. 'As to that, Monsieur Poirot, the two of trumps is a low card, but it can take anyone of three aces. All the same, I'm going to ask you to do a practical job of work.'
'And that is?'
'I want you to interview Professor Luxmore's widow.'
'And why do you not do that yourself?'
'Because, as I said just now, I'm off to Devonshire.'
'Why do you not do that yourself?' repeated Poirot.
'Won't be put off, will you? Well, I'll speak the truth. I think you'll get more out of her than I shall.'
'My methods being less straightforward?'
'You can put it that way if you like,' said Battle, grinning. 'I've heard Inspector Japp say that you've got a tortuous mind.'
'Like the late Mr. Shaitana?'
'You think he would have been able to get things out of her?'
Poirot said slowly, 'I rather think he did get things out of her!'
'What makes you think so?' asked Battle sharply.
'A chance remark of Major Despard's.'
'Gave himself away, did he? That sounds unlike him.'
'Oh, my dear friend, it is impossible not to give oneself away – unless one never opens one's mouth! Speech is the deadliest of revealers.'
'Even if people tell lies?' asked Mrs. Oliver.
'Yes, madame, because it can be seen at once that you tell a certain kind of lie.'
'You make me feel quite uncomfortable,' said Mrs. Oliver, getting up.
Superintendent Battle accompanied her to the door and shook her warmly by the hand.
'You've been the goods, Mrs. Oliver,' he said. 'You're a much better detective than that long lanky Laplander of yours.'
'Finn,' corrected Mrs. Oliver. 'Of course he's idiotic. But people like him. Good-by.'
'I, too, must depart,' said Poirot.
Battle scribbled an address on a piece of paper and shoved it into Poirot's hand.
'There you are. Go and tackle her.'
Poirot smiled.
'And what do you want me to find out?'
'The truth about Professor Luxmore's death.'
'Mon cher Battle! Does anybody know the truth about anything?'
'I'm going to about this business in Devonshire,' said the superintendent with decision.
Poirot murmured, 'I wonder.'
Chapter 20
THE EVIDENCE OF MRS. LUXMORE
The maid who opened the door at Mrs. Luxmore's South Kensington addressed looked at Hercule Poirot with deep disapproval. She showed no disposition to admit him into the house. Unperturbed Poirot gave her a card.
'Give that to your mistress. I think she will see me.'
