on, 'Then the young ladies came with their husbands. Miss Susan he took to at once – a very spirited and handsome young lady, but it's my opinion he couldn't abide her husband. Young ladies make funny choices nowadays, sir.'
'And the other couple?'
'I couldn't say much about that. A very pleasant and good-looking young pair. I think the master enjoyed having them here – but I don't think -' The old man hesitated.
'Yes, Lanscombe?'
'Well, the master had never had much truck with the stage. He said to me one day, 'I can't understand why anyone gets stage-struck. It's a foolish kind of life. Seems to deprive people of what little sense they have. I don't know what it does to your moral sense. You certainly lose your sense of proportion.' Of course he wasn't referring directly -'
'No, no, I quite understand. Now after these visits, Mr Abernethie himself went away – first to his brother, and afterwards to his sister Mrs Lansquenet.'
'That I did not know, sir. I mean he mentioned to me that he was going to Mr Timothy and afterwards to Something St Mary.'
'That is right. Can you remember anything he said on his return in regard to those visits?'
Lanscombe reflected.
'I really don't know – nothing direct. He was glad to be back. Travelling and staying in strange houses tired him very much – that I do remember his saying.'
'Nothing else? Nothing about either of them?'
Lanscombe frowned.
'The master used to – well, to murmur, if you get my meaning – speaking to me and yet more to himself – hardly noticing I was there – because he knew me so well.'
'Knew you and trusted you, yes.'
'But my recollection is very vague as to what he said – something about he couldn't think what he'd done with his money – that was Mr Timothy, I take it. And then he said something about 'Women can be fools in ninety- nine different ways but be pretty shrewd in the hundredth.' Oh yes, and he said, 'You can only say what you really think to someone of your own generation. They don't think you're fancying things as the younger ones do.' And later he said – but I don't know in what connection – 'It's not very nice to have to set traps for people, but I don't see what else I can do.' But I think it possible, sir, that he may have been thinking of the second gardener – a question of the peaches being taken.'
But Mr Entwhistle did not think that it was the second gardener who had been in Richard Abernethie's mind. After a few more questions he let Lanscombe go and reflected on what he had learned. Nothing, really – nothing, that is, that he had not deduced before. Yet there were suggestive points. It was not his sister-in-law, Maude, but his sister Cora of whom he had been thinking when he made the remark about women who were fools and yet shrewd. And it was to her he had confided his 'fancies.' And he had spoken of setting a trap. For whom?
III
Mr Entwhistle had meditated a good deal over how much he should tell Helen. In the end he decided to take her wholly into his confidence.
First he thanked her for sorting out Richard's things and for making various household arrangements. The house had been advertised for sale and there were one or two prospective buyers who would be shortly coming to look over it.
'Private buyers?'
'I'm afraid not. The YWCA are considering it, and there is a young people's club, and the Trustees of the Jefferson Trust are looking for a suitable place to house their Collection.'
'It seems sad that the house will not be lived in, but of course it is not a practicable proposition nowadays.'
'I am going to ask you if it would be possible for you to remain here until the house is sold. Or would it be a great inconvenience?'
'No – actually it would suit me very well. I don't want to go to Cyprus until May, and I much prefer being here than to being in London as I had planned. I love this house, you know; Leo loved it, and we were always happy when we were here together.'
'There is another reason why I should be grateful if you would stay on. There is a friend of mine, a man called Hercule Poirot -'
Helen said sharply:
'Hercule Poirot? Then you think -'
'You know of him?'
'Yes. Some friends of mine – but I imagined that he was dead long ago.'
'He is very much alive. Not young, of course.'
'No, he could hardly be young.'
She spoke mechanically. Her face was white and strained. She said with an effort:
'You think – that Cora was right? That Richard was – murdered?'
Mr Entwhistle unburdened himself. It was a pleasure to unburden himself to Helen with her clear calm mind.
When he had finished she said:
'One ought to feel it's fantastic – but one doesn't. Maude and I, that night after the funeral – it was in both our minds, I'm sure. Saying to ourselves what a silly woman Cora was – and yet being uneasy. And then – Cora was killed – and I told myself it was just coincidence – and of course it may be – but oh! if one can only be sure. It's all so difficult.'
'Yes, it's difficult. But Poirot is a man of great originality and he has something really approaching genius. He understands perfectly what we need – assurance that the whole thing is a mare's nest.'
'And suppose it isn't?'
'What makes you say that?' asked Mr Entwhistle sharply.
'I don't know. I've been uneasy… Not just about what Cora said that day – something else. Something that I felt at the time to be wrong.'
'Wrong? In what way?'
'That's just it. I don't know.'
'You mean it was something about one of the people in the room?'
'Yes – yes – something of that kind. But I don't know who or what… Oh that sounds absurd -'
'Not at all. It is interesting – very interesting. You are not a fool, Helen. If you noticed something, that something has significance.'
'Yes, but I can't remember what it was. The more I think -'
'Don't think. That is the wrong way to bring anything back. Let it go. Sooner or later it will flash into your mind. And when it does – let me know – at once.'
'I will.'
Chapter 9
Miss Gilchrist pulled her black felt hat down firmly on her head and tucked in a wisp of grey hair. The inquest was set for twelve o'clock and it was not quite twenty-past eleven. Her grey coat and skirt looked quite nice, she thought, and she had bought herself a black blouse. She wished she could have been all in black, but that would have been far beyond her means. She looked round the small neat bedroom and at the walls hung with
