'But why cannot you remember – because something else put it out of your head – something more important?'
'Yes – yes – I think you're right there. It was the mention of murder, I suppose. That swept away everything else.'
'It was, perhaps, the reaction of some particular person to the word 'murder'?'
'Perhaps… But I don't remember looking at anyone in particular. We were all staring at Cora.'
'It may have been something you heard – something dropped perhaps… or broken…'
Helen frowned in an effort of remembrance.
'No… I don't think so…'
'Ah well, someday it will come back. And it may be of no consequence. Now tell me, Madame, of those here, who knew Cora best?'
Helen considered.
'Lanscombe, I suppose. He remembers her from a child. The housemaid, Janet, only came after she had married and gone away.'
'And next to Lanscombe?'
Helen said thoughtfully: 'I suppose – I did. Maude hardly knew her at all.'
'Then, taking you as the person who knew her best, why do you think she asked that question as she did?'
Helen smiled.
'It was very characteristic of Cora!'
'What I mean is, was it a betise pure and simple? Did she just blurt out what was in her mind without thinking? Or was she being malicious – amusing herself by upsetting everyone?'
Helen reflected.
'You can't ever be quite sure about a person, can you? I never have known whether she was just ingenuous – or whether she counted, childishly, on making an effect. That's what you mean, isn't it?'
'Yes. I was thinking: Suppose this Mrs Cora says to herself 'What fun it would be to ask if Richard was murdered and see how they all look!' That would be like her, yes?'
Helen looked doubtful.
'It might be. She certainly had an impish sense of humour as a child. But what difference does it make?'
'It would underline the point that it is unwise to make jokes about murder,' said Poirot dryly.
Helen shivered. 'Poor Cora.'
Poirot changed the subject.
'Mrs Timothy Abernethie stayed the night after the funeral?'
'Yes.'
'Did she talk to you at all about what Cora had said?'
'Yes, she said it was outrageous and just like Cora!'
'She didn't take it seriously?'
'Oh, no. No, I'm sure she didn't.'
The second 'no,' Poirot thought, had sounded suddenly doubtful. But was not that almost always the case when you went back over something in your mind?
'And you, Madame, did you take it seriously?'
Helen Abernethie, her eyes looking very blue and strangely young under the sideways sweep of crisp grey hair, said thoughtfully:
'Yes, M. Poirot, I think I did.'
'Because of your feeling that something was wrong?'
'Perhaps.'
He waited – but as she said nothing more, he went on:
'There had been an estrangement, lasting many years, between Mrs Lansquenet and her family?'
'Yes. None of us liked her husband and she was offended about it, and so the estrangement grew.'
'And then, suddenly, your brother-in-law went to see her. Why?'
'I don't know – I suppose he knew, or guessed, that he hadn't very long to live and wanted to be reconciled but I really don't know.'
'He didn't tell you?'
'Tell me?'
'Yes. You were here, staying with him, just before he went there. He didn't even mention his intention to you?'
He thought a slight reserve came into her manner.
'He told me that he was going to see his brother Timothy – which he did. He never mentioned Cora at all. Shall we go in? It must be nearly lunchtime.'
She walked beside him carrying the flowers she had picked. As they went in by the side door, Poirot said:
'You are sure, quite sure, that during your visit, Mr Abernethie said nothing to you about any member of the family which might be relevant?'
A faint resentment in her manner, Helen said:
'You are speaking like a policeman.'
'I was a policeman – once. I have no status – no right to question you. But you want the truth – or so I have been led to believe?'
They entered the green drawing-room. Helen said with a sigh:
'Richard was disappointed in the younger generation. Old men usually are. He disparaged them in various ways – but there was nothing – nothing, do you understand – that could possibly suggest a motive for murder.'
'Ah,' said Poirot. She reached for a Chinese bowl, and began to arrange the roses in it. When they were disposed to her satisfaction she looked round for a place to put it.
'You arrange flowers admirably, Madame,' said Hercule. 'I think that anything you undertook you would manage to do with perfection.'
'Thank you. I am fond of flowers. I think this would look well on that green malachite table.'
There was a bouquet of wax flowers under a glass shade on the malachite table. As she lifted it off, Poirot said casually:
'Did anyone tell Mr Abernethie that his niece Susan's husband had come near to poisoning a customer when making up a prescription? Ah, pardon!'
He sprang forward.
The Victorian ornament had slipped from Helen's fingers. Poirot's spring forward was not quick enough. It dropped on the floor and the glass shade broke. Helen gave an expression of annoyance.
'How careless of me. However, the flowers are not damaged. I can get a new glass shade made for it. I'll put it away in the big cupboard under the stairs.'
It was not until Poirot had helped her to lift it on to a shelf in the dark cupboard and had followed her back to the drawing-room that he said:
'It was my fault. I should not have startled you.'
'What was it that you asked me? I have forgotten.'
'Oh, there is no need to repeat my question. Indeed – I have forgotten what it was.'
Helen came up to him. She laid her hand on his arm.
'M. Poirot, is there anyone whose life would really bear close investigation? Must people's lives be dragged into this when they have nothing to do with – with -'
'With the death of Cora Lansquenet? Yes. Because one has to examine everything. Oh! it is true enough – it is an old maxim – everyone has something to hide. It is true of all of us – it is perhaps true of you, too, Madame. But I say to you, nothing can be ignored. That is why your friend, Mr Entwhistle, he has come to me. For I am not the police. I am discreet and what I learn does not concern me. But I have to know. And since in this matter is not so much evidence as people – then it is people with whom I occupy myself. I need, madame, to meet everyone who
