after themselves. But when I looked at Anne Meredith -'
She hesitated, then continued slowly, 'Anne Meredith was only a girl. She has the whole of her life in front of her. This miserable business might ruin that life. I didn't like the thought of that. And then, Monsieur Poirot, with these ideas growing in my mind, I realized that what you had hinted had come true. I was not going to be able to keep silence. This afternoon I rang you up -'
Minutes passed. Hercule Poirot leaned forward. He stared, deliberately stared through the gathering gloom at Mrs. Lorrimer. She returned that intent gaze quietly and without any nervousness.
He said at last, 'Mrs. Lorrimer. Are you sure – are you positive, you will tell me the truth, will you not, that the murder of Mr. Shaitana was not premeditated? Is it not a fact that you planned the crime beforehand? That you went to that dinner with the murder already all mapped out in your mind?'
Mrs. Lorrimer stared at him for a moment, then she shook her head sharply. 'No,' she said.
'You did not plan the murder beforehand?'
'Certainly not.'
'Then – then – Oh! you are lying to me – you must be lying -'
Mrs. Lorrimer's voice cut into the air like ice.
'Really, Monsieur Poirot, you forget yourself.'
The little man sprang to his feet. He paced up and down the room, muttering to himself, uttering ejaculations. Suddenly he said, 'Permit me?' And going to the switch he turned on the electric lights.
He came back, sat down in his chair, placed both hands on his knees, and stared straight at his hostess.
'The question is,' he said, 'can Hercule Poirot possibly be wrong?'
'No one can always be right,' said Mrs. Lorrimer coldly.
'I am,' said Poirot. 'Always I am right. It is so invariable that it startles me. But now, it looks, it very much looks as though I am wrong. And that upsets me. Presumably you know what you are saying. It is your murder! Fantastic, then, that Hercule Poirot should know better than you do how you committed it.'
'Fantastic and very absurd,' said Mrs. Lorrimer still more coldly.
'I am, then, mad. Decidedly I am mad. No – sacre nom d'un petit bonhomme – I am not mad! I am right. I must be right. I am willing to believe that you killed Mr. Shaitana – but you cannot have killed him in the way you say you did. No one can do a thing that is not dans son caractere!'
He paused. Mrs. Lorrimer drew in an angry breath and bit her lips. She was about to speak, but Poirot forestalled her. 'Either the killing of Shaitana was planned beforehand – or you did not kill him at all!'
Mrs. Lorrimer said sharply, 'I really believe you are mad, Monsieur Poirot. If I am willing to admit I committed the crime, I should not be likely to lie about the way I did it. What would be the point of such a thing?'
Poirot got up again and took one turn round the room. When he came back to his seat his manner had changed. He was gentle and kindly.
'You did not kill Shaitana,' he said softly. 'I see that now. I see everything. Harley Street. And little Anne Meredith standing forlorn on the pavement. I see, too, another girl – a very long time ago. A girl who has gone through life always alone, terribly alone. Yes, I see all that. But one thing I do not see – why are you so certain that Anne Meredith did it?'
'Really, Monsieur Poirot -'
'Absolutely useless to protest, to lie further to me, madame. I tell you I know the truth. I know the very emotions that swept over you that day in Harley Street. You would not have done it for Doctor Roberts – oh, no! You would not have done it for Major Despard non plus. But Anne Meredith is different. You have compassion for her because she has done what you once did. You do not know even – or so I imagine – what reason she had for the crime. But you are quite sure she did it. You were sure that first evening, the evening it happened, when Superintendent Battle invited you to give your views on the case. Yes, I know it all, you see. It is quite useless to lie further to me. You see that, do you not?' He paused for an answer, but none came. He nodded his head in satisfaction.
'Yes, you are sensible. That is good. It is a very noble action that you perform there, madame, to take the blame on yourself and to let this child escape.'
'You forget,' said Mrs. Lorrimer in a dry voice. 'I am not an innocent woman. Years ago, Monsieur Poirot, I killed my husband.'
There was a moment's silence.
'I see,' said Poirot. 'It is justice. After all only justice. You have the logical mind. You are willing to suffer for the act you committed. Murder is murder – it does not matter who the victim is. Madame, you have courage and you have clear-sightedness. But I ask of you once more, How can you be so sure? How do you know that it was Anne Meredith who killed Mr. Shaitana?'
A deep sigh broke from Mrs. Lorrimer. Her last resistance had gone down before Poirot's insistence. She answered his question quite simply like a child.
'Because,' she said, 'I saw her.'
Chapter 27
THE EYEWITNESS
Suddenly Poirot laughed. He could not help it. His head went back and his high Gallic laugh filled the room. 'Pardon, madame,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'I could not help it. Here we argue and we reason! We ask questions! We invoke the psychology – and all the time there was an eyewitness of the crime. Tell me, I pray of you.'
'It was fairly late in the evening. Anne Meredith was dummy. She got up and looked over her partner's hand and then she moved about the room. The hand wasn't very interesting – the conclusion was inevitable. I didn't need to concentrate on the cards. Just as we got to the last three tricks I looked over toward the fireplace. Anne Meredith was bent over Mr. Shaitana. As I watched she straightened herself – her hand had been actually on his breast – a gesture which awakened my surprise. She straightened herself and I saw her face, and her quick look over toward us. Guilt and fear – that is what I saw on her face. Of course, I didn't know what had happened then. I only wondered what on earth the girl could have been doing. Later – I knew.'
Poirot nodded. 'But she did not know that you knew. She did not know that you had seen her?'
'Poor child,' said Mrs. Lorrimer. 'Young, frightened – her way to make in the world. Do you wonder that I – well, held my tongue?'
'No, no, I do not wonder.'
'Especially knowing that I – that I myself -' She finished the sentence with a shrug. 'It was certainly not my place to stand accuser. It was up to the police.'
'Quite so, but today you have gone further than that.'
Mrs. Lorrimer said grimly, 'I've never been a very soft-hearted or compassionate woman, but I suppose these qualities grow upon one in one's old age. I assure you I'm not often actuated by pity.'
'It is not always a very safe guide, madame. Mademoiselle Anne is young, she is fragile, she looks timid and frightened – oh, yes, she seems a very worthy subject for compassion. But I, I do not agree. Shall I tell you, madame, why Miss Anne Meredith killed Mr. Shaitana? It was because he knew that she had previously killed an elderly lady to whom she was companion – because that lady had found her out in a petty theft.'
Mrs. Lorrimer looked a little startled.
'Is that true, Monsieur Poirot?'
'I have no doubt of it whatsoever. She is so soft – so gentle – one would say. Pah! she is dangerous, madame, that little Mademoiselle Anne! Where her own safety, her own comfort, is concerned, she will strike wildly, treacherously. With Mademoiselle Anne those two crimes will not be the end. She will gain confidence from them.'
Mrs. Lorrimer said sharply, 'What you say is horrible, Monsieur Poirot. Horrible!'
Poirot rose. 'Madame, I will now take my leave. Reflect on what I have said.'
Mrs. Lorrimer was looking a little uncertain of herself. She said, with an attempt at her old manner, 'If it suits me, Monsieur Poirot, I shall deny this whole conversation. You have no witnesses, remember. What I have just told
