'And so-when you 'doodle' (that is the word,s is it not?)-it is always Ygdrasil you draw?'
'Yes. Doodling is a funny thing, isn't it?'
'Here on the seat… on the bridge marker on Saturday evening… in the pavilion on Sunday morning…'
The hand that held the pencil stiffened and stopped. She said in a tone of careless amusement:
'In the pavilion?'
'Yes, on the round iron table there.'
'Oh, that must have been on-on Saturday afternoon.'
'It was not on Saturday afternoon. When Gudgeon brought the glasses out to the pavilion about twelve o'clock on Sunday morning, there was nothing drawn on the table.
I asked him and he is quite definite about that.'
'Then it must have been'-she hesitated for just a moment-'of course, on Sunday afternoon.'
But, still smiling pleasantly, Hercule Poirot shook his head.
'I think not. Grange's men were at the pool all Sunday afternoon, photographing the body, getting the revolver out of the water. They did not leave until dusk. They would have seen anyone go into the pavilion.'
Henrietta said slowly:
'I remember now-I went along there quite late in the evening-after dinner-'
Poirot's voice came sharply:
'People do not 'doodle' in the dark, Miss Savernake. Are you telling me that you went into the pavilion at night and stood by a table and drew a tree without being able to see what you were drawing?'
Henrietta said calmly:
'I am telling you the truth. Naturally, you don't believe it. You have your own ideas-What is your idea, by the way?'
'I am suggesting that you were in the pavilion on Sunday morning after twelve o'clock when Gudgeon brought the glasses out. That you stood by that table watching someone, or waiting for someone, and unconsciously took out a pencil and drew Ygdrasil without being fully aware of what you were doing.'
'I was not in the pavilion on Sunday morning. I sat out on the terrace for a while, then I got the gardening basket and went up to the dahlia border and cut off heads and tied up some of the Michaelmas daisies that were untidy. Then, just on one o'clock, I went along to the pool. I've been through it all with Inspector Grange. I never came near the pool until one o'clock, just after John had been shot.'
'That,' said Hercule Poirot, 'is your story. But Ygdrasil, Mademoiselle, testifies against you.'
'I was in the pavilion and I shot John, that's what you mean?'
'You were there and you shot Dr. Christow, or you were there and you saw who shot Dr. Christow-or someone else was there who knew about Ygdrasil and deliberately drew it on the table to put suspicion on you.'
Henrietta got up. She turned on him with her chin lifted.
'You still think that I shot John Christow.
You think that you can prove I shot him.
Well, I will tell you this. You will never prove it. Never!'
'You think that you are cleverer than I am?'
'You will never prove it,' said Henrietta, and turning, she walked away down the winding path that led to the swimming pool.
Chapter XXVI
Grange came into Resthaven to drink a cup of tea with Hercule Poirot. The tea was exactly what he had had apprehensions it might be-extremely weak and China tea at that.
'These foreigners,' thought Grange, 'don't know how to make tea-you can't teach 'em.' But he did not mind much. He was in a condition of pessimism when one more thing that was unsatisfactory actually afforded him a kind of grim satisfaction.
He said, 'The adjourned inquest's the day after tomorrow and where have we got? Nowhere at all. What the hell, that gun must be somewhere! It's this damned country-miles of woods. It would take an army to search them properly. Talk of a needle in a haystack. It may be anywhere. The fact is, we've got to face up to it-we may never find that gun.'
'You will find it,' said Poirot confidently.
'Well, it won't be for want of trying!'
'You will find it, sooner or later. And I should say sooner. Another cup of tea?'
'I don't mind if I do-no, no hot water.'
'It is not too strong?'
'Oh, no, it's not too strong.' The Inspector was conscious of understatement.
Gloomily he sipped at the pale straw-coloured beverage.
'This case is making a monkey of me, M. Poirot-a monkey of me! I can't get the hang of these people. They seem helpful-but everything they tell you seems to lead you away on a wild-goose chase.'
'Away?' said Poirot. A startled look came into his eyes. 'Yes, I see. Away…'
The Inspector was developing his grievance.
'Take the gun now. Christow was shot-according to the medical evidence-only a minute or two before your arrival. Lady Angkatell had that egg basket. Miss Savernake had a gardening basket full of dead flower heads, and Edward Angkatell was wearing a loose shooting coat with large pockets stuffed with cartridges. Any one of them could have carried the revolver away with them. It wasn't hidden anywhere near the pool-my men have raked the place, so that's definitely out.'
Poirot nodded. Grange went on:
'Gerda Christow was framed-by whom? That's where every clue I follow seems to vanish into thin air.'
'Their stories of how they spent the morning are satisfactory?'
'The stories are all right. Miss Savernake was gardening. Lady Angkatell was collecting eggs. Edward Angkatell and Sir Henry were shooting and separated at the end of the morning-Sir Henry coming back to the house and Edward Angkatell coming down here through the woods. The young fellow was up in his bedroom reading. (Funny place to read on a nice day, but he's the indoor bookish kind.) Miss Hardcastle took a book down to the orchard. All sounds very natural and likely 3 and there's no means of checking up on it. Gudgeon took a tray of glasses out to the pavilion about twelve o'clock. He can't say where any of the house party were or what they were doing. In a way, you know, there's something against almost all of them?'
'Really?'
'Of course, the most obvious person is Veronica Cray; she had quarrelled with Christow, she hated his guts, she's quite likely to have shot him-but I can't find the least iota of proof that she did shoot him. No evidence as to her having had any opportunity to pinch the revolvers from Sir Henry's collection, no one who saw her going to or from the pool that day. And the missing revolver definitely isn't in her possession now.'
'Ah, you have made sure of that?'
'What do you think? The evidence would have justified a search warrant but there was no need. She was quite gracious about it. It's not anywhere in that tin-pot bungalow. After the inquest was adjourned, we made a show of letting up on Miss Cray and Miss Savernake, and we've had a tail on them to see where they went and what they'd do. We've had a man on at the film studios, watching Veronica-no sign of her trying to ditch the gun there.'
'And Henrietta Savernake?'
'Nothing there either. She went straight back to Chelsea and we've kept an eye on her ever since. The revolver isn't in her studio or in her possession. She was quite pleasant about the search-seemed amused.
Some of her fancy stuff gave our man quite I a turn. He said it beat him why people wanted to do that kind of thing-statues all lumps and swellings, bits of brass and aluminum twisted into fancy shapes, horses that you wouldn't know were horses-'
Poirot stirred a little.
