I can't visualise that girl committing a lot of crimes. But there's nothing she wouldn't do to try and cover him.'
'I will tell you all -'
'Yes, yes, tell me all! And for the Lord's sake hurry up and do it!'
II
This time it was in the big drawing-room that Hercule Poirot assembled his audience.
There was amusement rather than tension in the faces that were turned towards him. Menace had materialised in the shape of Inspector Morton and Superintendent Parwell. With the police in charge, questioning, asking for statements, Hercule Poirot, private detective, had receded into something closely resembling a joke.
Timothy was not far from voicing the general feeling when he remarked in an audible sotto voce to his wife:
'Damned little mountebank! Entwhistle must be gaga! – that's all I can say.'
It looked as though Hercule Poirot would have to work hard to make his proper effect.
He began in a slightly pompous manner.
'For the second time, I announce my departure! This morning I announced it for the twelve o'clock train. This evening I announce it for the nine-thirty – immediately, that is, after dinner. I go because there is nothing more here for me to do.'
'Could have told him that all along.' Timothy's commentary was still in evidence. 'Never was anything for him to do. The cheek of these fellows!'
'I came here originally to solve a riddle. The riddle is solved. Let me, first, go over the various points which were brought to my attention by the excellent Mr Entwhistle.
'First, Mr Richard Abernethie dies suddenly. Secondly, after his funeral, his sister Cora Lansquenet says, 'He was murdered, wasn't he?' Thirdly Mrs Lansquenet is killed. The question is, are those three things part of a sequence? Let us observe what happens next! Miss Gilchrist, the dead woman's companion, is taken ill after eating a piece of wedding cake which contains arsenic. That, then, is the next step in the sequence.
'Now, as I told you this morning, in the course of my inquiries I have come across nothing – nothing at all, to substantiate the belief that Mr Abernethie was poisoned. Equally, I may say, I have found nothing to prove conclusively that he was not poisoned. But as we proceed, things become easier. Cora Lansquenet undoubtedly asked that sensational question at the funeral. Everyone agrees upon that. And undoubtedly, on the following day, Mrs Lansquenet was murdered – a hatchet being the instrument employed. Now let us examine the fourth happening. The local post van driver is strongly of the belief – though he will not definitely swear to it – that he did not deliver that parcel of wedding cake in the usual way. And if that is so, then the parcel was left by hand and though we cannot exclude a 'person unknown' – we must take particular notice of those people who were actually on the spot and in a position to put the parcel where it was subsequently found. Those were: Miss Gilchrist herself, of course; Susan Banks who came down that day for the inquest; Mr Entwhistle (but yes, we must consider Mr Entwhistle; he was present, remember, when Cora made her disquieting remark!) And there were two other people. An old gentleman who represented himself to be a Mr Guthrie, an art critic, and a nun or nuns who called early that morning to collect a subscription.
'Now I decided that I would start on the assumption that the postal van driver's recollection was correct. Therefore the little group of people under suspicion must be very carefully studied. Miss Gilchrist did not benefit in any way by Richard Abernethie's death and in only a very minute degree by Mrs Lansquenet's – in actual fact the death of the latter put her out of employment and left her with the possibility of finding it difficult to get new employment. Also Miss Gilchrist was taken to hospital definitely suffering from arsenical poisoning.
'Susan Banks did benefit from Richard Abernethie's death, and in a small degree from Mrs Lansquenet's – though here her motive must almost certainly have been security. She might have very good reason to believe that Miss Gilchrist had overheard a conversation between Cora Lansquenet and her brother which referred to her, and she might therefore decide that Miss Gilchrist must be eliminated. She herself, remember, refused to partake of the wedding cake and also suggested not calling in a doctor until the morning, when Miss Gilchrist was taken ill in the night.
'Mr Entwhistle did not benefit by either of the deaths – but he had had considerable control over Mr Abernethie's affairs, and the trust funds, and there might well be some reason why Richard Abernethie should not live too long. But – you will say – if it is Mr Entwhistle who was concerned, why should he come to me?
'And to that I will answer – it is not the first time that a murderer has been too sure of himself.
'We now come to what I may call the two outsiders. Mr Guthrie and a nun. If Mr Guthrie is really Mr Guthrie, the art critic, then that clears him. The same applies to the nun, if she is really a nun. The question is, are these people themselves, or are they somebody else?
'And I may say that there seems to be a curious – motif – one might call it – of a nun running through this business. A nun comes to the door of Mr Timothy Abernethie's house and Miss Gilchrist believes it is the same nun she has seen at Lychett St Mary. Also a nun, or nuns, called here the day before Mr Abernethie died…'
George Crossfield murmured, 'Three to one, the nun.'
Poirot went on:
'So he we have certain pieces of our pattern – the death of Mr Abernethie, the murder of Cora Lansquenet, the poisoned wedding cake, the 'motif' of the 'nun.'
'I will add some other features of the case that engaged my attention:
'The visit of an art critic, a smell of oil paint, a picture postcard of Polflexan harbour, and finally a bouquet of wax flowers standing on that malachite table where a Chinese vase stands now.
'It was reflecting on these things that led me to the truth – and I am now about to tell you the truth.
'The first part of it I told you this morning. Richard Abernethie died suddenly – but there would have been no reason at all to suspect foul play had it not been for the words uttered by his sister Cora at his funeral. The whole case for the murder of Richard Abernethie rests upon those words. As a result of them, you all believed that murder had taken place, and you believed it, not really because of the words themselves but because of the character of Cora Lansquenet herself. For Cora Lansquenet had always been famous for speaking the truth at awkward moments. So the case for Richard's murder rested not only upon what Cora had said but upon Cora herself.
'And now I come to the question that I suddenly asked myself:
'How well did you all know Cora Lansquenet?'
He was silent for a moment, and Susan asked sharply, 'What do you mean?'
Poirot went on:
'Not well at all – that is the answer! The younger generation had never seen her at all, or if so, only when they were very young children. There were actually only three people present that day who actually knew Cora. Lanscombe, the butler, who is old and very blind; Mrs Timothy Abernethie who had only seen her a few times round about the date of her own wedding, and Mrs Leo Abernethie who had known her quite well, but who had not seen her for over twenty years.
'So I said to myself: 'Supposing it was not Cora Lansquenet who came to the funeral that day?''
'Do you mean that Aunt Cora – wasn't Aunt Cora?' Susan demanded incredulously. 'Do you mean that it wasn't Aunt Cora who was murdered, but someone else?'
'No, no, it was Cora Lansquenet who was murdered. But it was not Cora Lansquenet who came the day before to her brother's funeral. The woman who came that day came for one purpose only – to exploit, one may say, the fact that Richard died suddenly. And to create in the minds of his relations the belief that he had been murdered. Which she managed to do most successfully!'
'Nonsense! Why? What was the point of it?' Maude spoke bluffly.
'Why? To draw attention away from the other murder. From the murder of Cora Lansquenet herself. For if Cora says that Richard has been murdered and the next day she herself is killed, the two deaths are bound to be at least considered as possible cause and effect. But if Cora is murdered and her cottage is broken into, and if the apparent robbery does not convince the police, then they will look – where? Close at home, will they not? Suspicion will tend to fall on the woman who shares the house with her.'
Miss Gilchrist protested in a tone that was almost bright:
