III
Helen Abernethie, in her room, took some time in going to bed. She was thinking.
Sitting in front of her dressing-table, she stared at herself unseeingly in the glass.
She had been forced into having Hercule Poirot in the house. She had not wanted it. But Mr Entwhistle had made it hard for her to refuse. And now the whole thing had come out into the open. No question any more of letting Richard Abernethie lie quiet in his grave. All started by those few words of Cora's…
That day after the funeral… How had they all looked, she wondered? How had they looked to Cora? How had she herself looked?
What was it George had said? About seeing oneself?
There was some quotation, too. To see ourselves as others see us… As others see us.
The eyes that were staring into the glass unseeingly suddenly focused. She was seeing herself – but not really herself – not herself as others saw her – not as Cora had seen her that day.
Her right – no, her left eyebrow was arched a little higher than the right. The mouth? No, the curve of the mouth was symmetrical. If she met herself she would surely not see much difference from this mirror image. Not like Cora.
Cora – the picture came quite clearly… Cora, on the day of the funeral, her head tilted sideways – asking her question – looking at Helen…
Suddenly Helen raised her hands to her face. She said to herself. 'It doesn't make sense… it can't make sense…'
IV
Miss Entwhistle was aroused from a delightful dream in which she was playing Piquet with Queen Mary, by the ringing of the telephone.
She tried to ignore it – but it persisted. Sleepily she raised her head from the pillow and looked at the watch beside her bed. Five minutes to seven – who on earth could be ringing up at that hour? It must be a wrong number.
The irritating ding-ding continued. Miss Entwhistle sighed, snatched up a dressing-gown and marched into the sitting-room.
'This is Kensington 675498,' she said with asperity as she picked up the receiver.
'This is Mrs Abernethie speaking. Mrs Leo Abernethie. Can I speak to Mr Entwhistle?'
'Oh, good morning, Mrs Abernethie.' The 'good morning' was not cordial. 'This is Miss Entwhistle. My brother is still asleep I'm afraid. I was asleep myself.'
'I'm so sorry,' Helen was forced to the apology. 'But it's very important that I should speak to your brother at once.'
'Wouldn't it do later?'
'I'm afraid not.'
'Oh, very well then.'
Miss Entwhistle was tart.
She tapped at her brother's door and went in.
'Those Abernethies again!' she said bitterly.
'Eh! The Abernethies?'
'Mrs Leo Abernethie. Ringing up before seven in the morning! Really!'
'Mrs Leo, is it? Dear me. How remarkable. Where is my dressing-gown? Ah, thank you.'
Presently he was saying:
'Entwhistle speaking. Is that you, Helen?'
'Yes. I'm terribly sorry to get you out of bed like this. But you did tell me once to ring you up at once if I remembered what it was that struck me as having been wrong somehow on the day of the funeral when Cora electrified us all by suggesting that Richard had been murdered.'
'Ah! You have remembered?'
Helen said in a puzzled voice:
'Yes, but it doesn't make sense.'
'You must allow me to be the judge of that. Was it something you noticed about one of the people?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me.'
'It seems absurd.' Helen's voice sounded apologetic. 'But I'm quite sure of it. It came to me when I was looking at myself in the glass last night. Oh…'
The little startled half cry was succeeded by a sound that came oddly through the wires – a dull heavy sound that Mr Entwhistle couldn't place at all.
He said urgently:
'Hallo – hallo – are you there? Helen, are you there?… Helen…'
Chapter 21
I
It was not until nearly an hour later that Mr Entwhistle, after a great deal of conversation with supervisors and others, found himself at last speaking to Hercule Poirot.
'Thank heaven!' said Mr Entwhistle with pardonable exasperation. 'The Exchange seems to have had the greatest difficulty in getting the number.'
'That is not surprising. The receiver was off the hook.'
There was a grim quality in Poirot's voice which carried through to the listener.
Mr Entwhistle said sharply:
'Has something happened?'
'Yes. Mrs Leo Abernethie was found by the housemaid about twenty minutes ago lying by the telephone in the study. She was unconscious. A serious concussion.'
'Do you mean she was struck on the head?'
'I think so. It is just possible that she fell and struck her head on a marble doorstop, but me I do not think so, and the doctor, he does not think so either.'
'She was telephoning to me at the time. I wondered when we were cut off so suddenly.
'So it was to you she was telephoning? What did she say?'
'She mentioned to me some time ago that on the occasion when Cora Lansquenet suggested her brother had been murdered, she herself had a feeling of something being wrong – odd – she did not quite know how to put it – unfortunately she could not remember why she had that impression.'
'And suddenly, she did remember?'
'Yes.'
'And rang you up to tell you?'
'Yes.'
