'Surely if you had applied to Richard -'
Timothy gave a short bark of harsh laughter.
'That's not my style. Our father left us all a perfectly reasonable share of his money – that is, if we didn't want to go into the family concern. I didn't. I've a soul above corn-plasters, Entwhistle! Richard took my attitude a bit hard. Well, what with taxes, depreciation of income, one thing and another – it hasn't been easy to keep things going. I've had to realise a good deal of capital. Best thing to do these days. I did hint once to Richard that this place was getting a bit hard to run. He took the attitude that we'd be much better off in a smaller place altogether. Easier for Maude, he said, more labour saving – labour saving, what a term! Oh no, I wouldn't have asked Richard for help. But I can tell you, Entwhistle, that the worry affected my health most unfavourably. A man in my state of health oughtn't to have to worry. Then Richard died and though of course naturally I was cut up about it – my brother and all that – I couldn't help feeling relieved about future prospects. Yes, it's all plain sailing now – and a great relief. Get the house painted – get a couple of really good men on the garden – you can get them at a price. Restock the rose garden completely. And – where was I -'
'Detailing your future plans.'
'Yes, yes – but I mustn't bother you with all that. What did hurt me – and hurt me cruelly – were the terms of Richard's will.'
'Indeed?' Mr Entwhistle looked inquiring. 'They were not – as you expected?'
'I should say they weren't! Naturally, after Mortimer's death, I assumed that Richard would leave everything to me.'
'Ah – did he – ever – indicate that to you?'
'He never said so – not in so many words. Reticent sort of chap, Richard. But he asked himself here – not long after Mortimer's death. Wanted to talk over family affairs generally. We discussed young George – and the girls and their husbands. Wanted to know my views – not that I could tell him much. I'm an invalid and I don't get about, and Maude and I live out of the world. Rotten silly marriages both of those girls made, if you ask me. Well, I ask you, Entwhistle, naturally I thought he was consulting me as the head of the family after he was gone and naturally I thought the control of the money would be mine. Richard could surely trust me to do the right thing by the younger generation. And to look after poor old Cora. Dash it all, Entwhistle, I'm an Abernethie – the last Abernethie. Full control should have been left in my hands.'
In his excitement Timothy had kicked aside his rug and had sat up in his chair. There were no signs of weakness or fragility about him. He looked, Mr Entwhistle thought, a perfectly healthy man, even if a slightly excitable one. Moreover the old lawyer realised very clearly that Timothy Abernethie had probably always been secretly jealous of his brother Richard. They had been sufficiently alike for Timothy to resent his brother's strength of character and firm grasp of affairs. When Richard had died, Timothy had exulted in the prospect of succeeding at this late date to the power to control the destinies of others.
Richard Abernethie had not given him that power. Had he thought of doing so and then decided against it?
A sudden squalling of cats in the garden brought Timothy up out of his chair. Rushing to the window he threw up the sash, bawled out 'Stop it, you!' and picking up a large book hurled it out at the marauders.
'Beastly cats,' he grumbled, returning to his visitor. 'Ruin the flower beds and I can't stand that damned yowling.'
He sat down again and asked:
'Have a drink, Entwhistle?'
'Not quite so soon. Maude has just given me an excellent tea.'
Timothy grunted.
'Capable woman, Maude. But she does too much. Even has to muck about with the inside of that old car of ours – she's quite a mechanic in her way, you know.'
'I hear she had a breakdown coming back from the funeral?'
'Yes. Car conked out. She had the sense to telephone through about it, in case I should be anxious, but that ass of a daily woman of ours wrote down the message in a way that didn't make sense. I was out getting a bit of fresh air – I'm advised by the doctor to take what exercise I can if I feel like it – I got back from my walk to find scrawled on a bit of paper: 'Madam's sorry car gone wrong got to stay night.' Naturally I thought she was still at Enderby. Put a call through and found Maude had left that morning. Might have had the breakdown anywhere! Pretty kettle of fish! Fool of a daily woman only left me a lumpy macaroni cheese for supper. I had to go down to the kitchen and warm it up myself – and make myself a cup of tea – to say nothing of stoking the boiler. I might have had a heart attack – but does that class of woman care? Not she? With any decent feelings she'd have come back that evening and looked after me properly. No loyalty any more in the lower classes -'
He brooded sadly.
'I don't know how much Maude told you about the funeral and the relatives,' said Mr Entwhistle. 'Cora produced rather an awkward moment. Said brightly that Richard had been murdered, hadn't he? Perhaps Maude told you.'
Timothy chuckled easily.
'Oh yes, I heard about that. Everybody looked down their noses and pretended to be shocked. Just the sort of thing Cora would say! You know how she always managed to put her foot in it when she was a girl, Entwhistle? Said something at our wedding that upset Maude, I remember. Maude never cared for her very much. Yes, Maude rang me up that evening after the funeral to know if I was all right and if Mrs Jones had come in to give me my evening meal and then she told me it had all gone off very well, and I said 'What about the will?' and she tried to hedge a bit, but of course I had the truth out of her. I couldn't believe it, and I said she must have made a mistake, but she stuck to it. It hurt me, Entwhistle – it really wounded me, if you know what I mean. If you ask me, it was just spite on Richard's part. I know one shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but, upon my word -'
Timothy continued on this theme for some time.
Then Maude came back into the room and said firmly:
'I think, dear, Mr Entwhistle has been with you quite long enough. You really must rest. If you have settled everything -'
'Oh, we've settled things. I leave it all to you, Entwhistle. Let me know when they catch the fellow – if they ever do. I've no faith in the police nowadays – the Chief Constables aren't the right type. You'll see to the – er – interment – won't you? We shan't be able to come, I'm afraid. But order an expensive wreath – and there must be a proper stone put up in due course – she'll be buried locally, I suppose? No point in bringing her North and I've no idea where Lansquenet is buried, somewhere in France I believe. I don't know what one puts on a stone when it's murder… Can't very well say 'entered into rest' or anything like that. One will have to choose a text – something appropriate. R.I.P.? No, that's only for Catholics.'
'O Lord, thou hast seen my wrong. Judge thou my case,' murmured Mr Entwhistle.
The startled glance Timothy bent on him made Mr Entwhistle smile faintly.
'From Lamentations,' he said. 'It seems appropriate if somewhat melodramatic. However, it will be some time before the question of the Memorial stone comes up. The – er – ground has to settle, you know. Now don't worry about anything. We will deal with things and keep you fully informed.'
Mr Entwhistle left for London by the breakfast train on the following morning.
When he got home, after a little hesitation, he rang up a friend of his.
Chapter 7
'I can't tell you how much I appreciate your invitation.'
Mr Entwhistle pressed his host's hand warmly.
Hercule Poirot gestured hospitably to a chair by the fire.
Mr Entwhistle sighed as he sat down.
On one side of the room a table was laid for two.
'I returned from the country this morning,' he said.
