of her action…'
Dr Tanios said wistfully:
'She was much too good for me – always.'
A strange epitaph on a self-confessed murderess!
Chapter 30
THE LAST WORD
There is very little more to tell.
Theresa married her doctor shortly afterwards. I know them fairly well now and I have learnt to appreciate Donaldson – his clarity of vision and the deep, underlying force and humanity of the man. His manner, I may say, is just as dry and precise as ever; Theresa often mimics him to his face. She is, I think, amazingly happy and absolutely wrapped up in her husband's career. He is already making a big name for himself and is an authority on the functions of ductless glands.
Miss Lawson, in an acute attack of conscience, had to be restrained forcibly from denuding herself of every penny. A settlement agreeable to all parties was drawn up by Mr Purvis whereby Miss Arundell's fortune was shared out between Miss Lawson, the two Arundells and the Tanios children.
Charles went through his share in a little over a year and is now, I believe, in British Columbia.
Just two incidents.
'You're a downy fellow, ain't you?' said Miss Peabody, stopping us as we emerged from the gate of Littlegreen House one day. 'Managed to hush everything up! No exhumation. Everything done decently.'
'There seems to be no doubt that Miss Arundell died of yellow atrophy of the liver,' said Poirot gently.
'That's very satisfactory,' said Miss Peabody. 'Bella Tanios took an overdose of sleeping stuff, I hear.'
'Yes, it was very sad.'
'She was a miserable kind of woman – always wanting what she hadn't got. People go a bit queer sometimes when they're like that. Had a kitchen maid once. Same thing. Plain girl. Felt it. Started writing anonymous letters. Queer kinks people get. Ah, well, I dare say it's all for the best.'
'One hopes so, madame. One hopes so.'
'Well,' said Miss Peabody, preparing to resume her walk, 'I'll say this for you. You've hushed things up nicely. Very nicely indeed.'
She walked on.
There was a plaintive 'Wuff' behind me.
I turned and opened the gate.
'Come on, old man.'
Bob bounced through. There was a ball in his mouth.
'You can't take that for a walk.'
Bob sighed, turned and slowly ejected the ball inside the gate. He looked at it anxiously, then passed through.
He looked up at me.
'If you say so, master, I suppose it's all right.'
I drew a long breath.
'My word, Poirot, it's good to have a dog again.'
'The spoils of war,' said Poirot. 'But I would remind you, my friend, that it was to me that Miss Lawson presented Bob, not to you.'
'Possibly,' I said. 'But you're not really any good with a dog, Poirot. You don't understand dog psychology! Now Bob and I understand each other perfectly, don't we?'
'Woof,' said Bob in energetic assent.
