consolation-or rather flattery and attention-elsewhere, and a divorce results sooner or later. The best thing for a child, I am convinced, is to have what I should term healthy neglect on the part of both its parents. This happens naturally enough in the case of a large family of children and very little money. They are overlooked because the mother has literally no time to occupy herself with them. They realize quite well that she is fond of them, but they are not worried by too many manifestations of the fact.
‘But there is another aspect. One does occasionally find a husband and wife who are so all-sufficient to each other, so wrapped up in each other, that the child of the marriage hardly seems very real to either of them. And in those circumstances I think a child comes to resent that fact, to feel defrauded and left out in the cold. You understand that I am not speaking of neglect in any way. Mrs Crale, for instance, was what is termed an excellent mother, always careful of Carla’s welfare, of her health-playing with her at the right times and always kind and gay. But for all that, Mrs Crale was really completely wrapped up in her husband. She existed, one might say, only in him and for him.’ Miss Williams paused a minute and then said quietly: ‘That, I think, is the justification for what she eventually did.’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘You mean that they were more like lovers than like husband and wife?’
Miss Williams, with a slight frown of distaste for foreign phraseology, said:
‘You could certainly put it that way.’
‘He was devoted to her as she was to him?’
‘They were a devoted couple. But he, of course, was a man.’
Miss Williams contrived to put into that last word a wholly Victorian significance.
‘Men-’ said Miss Williams, and stopped.
As a rich property owner says ‘Bolsheviks’-as an earnest Communist says ‘Capitalists!’-as a good housewife says ‘Blackbeetles’-so did Miss Williams say ‘Men!’
From her spinster’s, governess’s life, there rose up a blast of fierce feminism. Nobody hearing her speak could doubt that to Miss Williams Men were the Enemy!
Poirot said: ‘You hold no brief for men?’
She answered drily:
‘Men have the best of this world. I hope that it will not always be so.’
Hercule Poirot eyed her speculatively. He could quite easily visualize Miss Williams methodically and efficiently padlocking herself to a railing, and later hunger-striking with resolute endurance. Leaving the general for the particular, he said:
‘You did not like Amyas Crale?’
‘I certainly did not like Mr Crale. Nor did I approve of him. If I were his wife I should have left him. There are things that no woman should put up with.’
‘But Mrs Crale did put up with them?’
‘Yes.’
‘You thought she was wrong?’
‘Yes, I do. A woman should have a certain respect for herself and not submit to humiliation.’
‘Did you ever say anything of that kind to Mrs Crale?’
‘Certainly not. It was not my place to do so. I was engaged to educate Angela, not to offer unasked advice to Mrs Crale. To do so would have been most impertinent.’
‘You liked Mrs Crale?’
‘I was very fond of Mrs Crale.’ The efficient voice softened, held warmth and feeling. ‘Very fond of her and very sorry for her.’
‘And your pupil-Angela Warren?’
‘She was a most interesting girl-one of the most interesting pupils I have had. A really good brain. Undisciplined, quick-tempered, most difficult to manage in many ways, but really a very fine character.’
She paused and then went on:
‘I always hoped that she would accomplish something worth while. And she has! You have read her book-on the Sahara? And she excavated those very interesting tombs in the Fayum! Yes, I am proud of Angela. I was not at Alderbury very long-two years and a half-but I always cherish the belief that I helped to stimulate her mind and encourage her taste for archæology.’
Poirot murmured: ‘I understand that it was decided to continue her education by sending her to school. You must have resented that decision.’
‘Not at all, M. Poirot. I thoroughly concurred with it.’
She paused and went:
‘Let me make the matter clear to you. Angela was a dear girl-really a very dear girl-warm-hearted and impulsive-but she was also what I call a difficult girl. That is, she was at a difficult age. There is always a moment where a girl feels unsure of herself-neither child nor woman. At one minute Angela would be sensible and mature-quite grown up, in fact-but a minute later she would relapse into being a hoydenish child-playing mischievous tricks and being rude and losing her temper. Girls, you know, feel difficult at that age-they are terribly sensitive. Everything that is said to them they resent. They are annoyed at being treated like a child and then they suddenly feel shy at being treated like adults. Angela was in that state. She had fits of temper, would suddenly resent teasing and flare out-and then she would be sulky for days at a time, sitting about and frowning-then again she would be in wild spirits, climbing trees, rushing about with the garden boys, refusing to submit to any kind of authority.’
Miss Williams paused and went on:
‘When a girl gets to that stage, school is very helpful. She needs the stimulation of other minds-that, and the wholesome discipline of a community, help her to become a reasonable member of society. Angela’s home conditions were not what I would have called ideal. Mrs Crale spoiled her, for one thing. Angela had only to appeal to her and Mrs Crale always backed her up. The result was that Angela considered she had first claim upon her sister’s time and attention, and it was in these moods of hers that she used to clash with Mr Crale. Mr Crale naturally thought that he should come first-and intended to do so. He was really very fond of the girl-they were good companions and used to spar together quite amiably, but there were times when Mr Crale used suddenly to resent Mrs Crale’s preoccupation with Angela. Like all men, he was a spoilt child; he expected everybody to make a fuss of him. Then he and Angela used to have a real set-to-and very often Mrs Crale would take Angela’s side. Then he would be furious. On the other hand, if she supported him, Angela would be furious. It was on these occasions that Angela used to revert to childish ways and play some spiteful trick on him. He had a habit of tossing off his drinks and she once put a lot of salt into his drink. The whole thing, of course, acted as an emetic, and he was inarticulate with fury. But what really brought things to a head was when she put a lot of slugs into his bed. He had a queer aversion for slugs. He lost his temper completely and said that the girl had got to be sent away to school. He wasn’t going to put up with all this petty nonsense any more. Angela was terribly upset- though actually she had once or twice expressed a wish herself to go to a boarding school-but she chose to make a huge grievance of it. Mrs Crale didn’t want her to go but allowed herself to be persuaded-largely owing, I think, to what I said to her on the subject. I pointed out to her that it would be greatly to Angela’s advantage, and that I thought it would really be a great benefit to the girl. So it was settled that she should go to Helston-a very fine school on the south coast-in the autumn term. But Mrs Crale was still unhappy about it all those holidays. And Angela kept up a grudge against Mr Crale whenever she remembered. It wasn’t really serious, you understand, M. Poirot, but it made a kind of undercurrent that summer to-well-to everything else that was going on.’
Poirot said: ‘Meaning-Elsa Greer?’
Miss Williams said sharply:
