'You mean -'
'Not now that there's Uncle Richard's money. Michael falls for these creatures in a way – that Sorrel Dainton woman nearly got her hooks into him – wanted him for keeps – but with Michael the show will always come first. He can launch out now in a big way – put his own shows on. Do some production as well as acting. He's ambitious, you know, and he really is good. Not like me, I adore acting – but I'm ham, though I look nice. No, I'm not worried about Michael any more. Because it's my money, you see.'
Her eyes met Poirot's calmly. He thought how strange it was that both Richard Abernethie's nieces should have fallen deeply in love with men who were incapable of returning that love. And yet Rosamund was unusually beautiful and Susan was attractive and full of sex appeal. Susan needed and clung to the illusion that Gregory loved her. Rosamund, clear-sighted, had no illusions at all, but knew what she wanted.
'The point is,' said Rosamund, 'that I've got to make a big decision – about the future. Michael doesn't know yet.'
Her face curved into a smile. 'He found out that I wasn't shopping that day and he's madly suspicious about Regent's Park.'
'What is this about Regent's Park?' Poirot looked puzzled.
'I went there, you see, after Harley Street. Just to walk about and think. Naturally Michael thinks that if I went there at all, I went to meet some man!'
Rosamund smiled beatifically and added:
'He didn't like that at all!'
'But why should you not go to Regent's Park?' asked Poirot.
'Just to walk there, you mean?'
'Yes. Have you never done it before?'
'Never. Why should I? What is there to go to Regent's Park for?'
Poirot looked at her and said:
'For you – nothing.'
He added:
'I think, Madame, that you must cede the green malachite table to your cousin Susan.'
Rosamund's eyes opened very wide.
'Why should I? I want it.'
'I know. I know. But you – you will keep your husband. And the poor Susan, she will lose hers.'
'Lose him? Do you mean Greg's going off with someone? I wouldn't have believed it of him. He looks so wet.'
'Infidelity is not the only way of losing a husband, Madame.'
'You don't mean?' Rosamund stared at him. 'You're not thinking that Greg poisoned Uncle Richard and killed Aunt Cora and conked Aunt Helen on the head? That's ridiculous. Even I know better than that.'
'Who did, then?'
'George, of course. George is a wrong un, you know, he's mixed up in some sort of currency swindle – I heard about it from some friends of mine who were in Monte. I expect Uncle Richard got to know about it and was just going to cut him out of his will.'
Rosamund added complacently:
'I've always known it was George.'
Chapter 24
I
The telegram came about six o'clock that evening.
As specially requested it was delivered by hand, not telephoned, and Hercule Poirot, who had been hovering for some time in the neighbourhood of the front door, was at hand to receive it from Lanscombe as the latter took it from the telegraph boy.
He tore it open with somewhat less than his usual precision. It consisted of three words and a signature.
Poirot gave vent to an enormous sigh of relief.
Then he took a pound note from his pocket and handed it to the dumbfounded boy.
'There are moments,' he said to Lanscombe, 'when economy should be abandoned.'
'Very possibly, sir,' said Lanscombe politely.
'Where is Inspector Morton?' asked Poirot.
'One of the police gentlemen,' Lanscombe spoke with distaste – and indicated subtly that such things as names for police officers were impossible to remember – 'has left. The other is, I believe, in the study.'
'Splendid,' said Poirot. 'I join him immediately.'
He once more clapped Lanscombe on the shoulder and said:
'Courage, we are on the point of arriving!'
Lanscombe looked slightly bewildered since departures, and not arrivals, had been in his mind.
He said:
'You do not, then, propose to leave by the nine-thirty train after all, sir?'
'Do not lose hope,' Poirot told him.
Poirot moved away, then wheeling round, he asked:
'I wonder, can you remember what were the first words Mrs Lansquenet said to you when she arrived here on the day of your master's funeral?'
'I remember very well, sir,' said Lanscombe, his face lighting up. 'Miss Cora – I beg pardon, Mrs Lansquenet – I always think of her as Miss Cora, somehow -'
'Very naturally.'
'She said to me: 'Hallo, Lanscombe. It's a long time since you used to bring us out meringues to the huts.' All the children used to have a hut of their own – down by the fence in the Park. In summer, when there was going to be a dinner party, I used to take the young ladies and gentlemen – the younger ones, you understand, sir – some meringues. Miss Cora, sir, was always very fond of her food.'
Poirot nodded.
'Yes,' he said, 'that was as I thought. Yes, it was very typical, that.'
He went into the study to find Inspector Morton and without a word handed him the telegram.
Morton read it blankly.
'I don't understand a word of this.'
'The time has come to tell you all.'
Inspector Morton grinned.
'You sound like a young lady in a Victorian melodrama. But it's about time you came across with something. I can't hold out on this set-up much longer. That Banks fellow is still insisting that he poisoned Richard Abernethie and boasting that we can't find out how. What beats me is why there's always somebody who comes forward when there's a murder and yells out that they did it! What do they think there is in it for them? I've never been able to fathom that.'
'In this case, probably shelter from the difficulties of being responsible for oneself – in other words – Forsdyke Sanatorium.'
'More likely to be Broadmoor.'
'That might be equally satisfactory.'
'Did he do it, Poirot? The Gilchrist woman came out with the story she'd already told you and it would fit with what Richard Abernethie said about his niece. If her husband did it, it would involve her. Somehow, you know,
