Hercule Poirot was persuasive. He was adroit. But charm he never so wisely, Mrs. Bishop remained aloof and implacable.
The death of Mrs. Welman had been very sad. She had been much respected in the neighbourhood. The arrest of Miss Carlisle was 'Disgraceful!' and believed to be the result of 'these new-fangled police methods.' The views of Mrs. Bishop upon the death of Mary Gerrard were vague in the extreme, 'I couldn't say, I'm sure,' being the most she could be brought to say.
Hercule Poirot played his last card. He recounted with naive pride a recent visit of his to Sandringham. He spoke with admiration of the graciousness and delightful simplicity and kindness of Royalty.
Mrs. Bishop, who followed daily in the court circular the exact movements of Royalty, was overborne. After all, if They had sent for Mr. Poirot – Well, naturally, that made All the Difference. Foreigner or no foreigner, who was she, Emma Bishop, to hold back where Royalty had led the way?
Presently she and M. Poirot were engaged in pleasant conversation on a really interesting theme – no less than the selection of a suitable future husband for the Princess. Having finally exhausted all possible candidates as Not Good Enough, the talk reverted to less exalted circles.
Poirot observed sententiously, 'Marriage, alas, is fraught with dangers and pitfalls!'
Mrs. Bishop said, 'Yes, indeed – with this nasty divorce,' rather as though she were speaking of a contagious disease such as chicken pox.
'I suspect,' said Poirot, 'that Mrs. Welman, before her death, must have been anxious to see her niece suitably settled for life?'
Mrs. Bishop bowed her head. 'Yes, indeed. The engagement between Miss Elinor and Mr. Roderick was a great relief to her. It was a thing she had always hoped for.'
Poirot ventured, 'The engagement was perhaps entered into partly from a wish to please her?'
'Oh, no, I wouldn't say that, Mr. Poirot. Miss Elinor has always been devoted to Mr. Roddy – always was, as a tiny tot – quite beautiful to see. Miss Elinor has a very loyal and devoted nature!'
Poirot murmured, 'And he?'
Mrs. Bishop said austerely, 'Mr. Roderick was devoted to Miss Elinor.'
Poirot said, 'Yet the engagement, I think, was broken off?'
The color rose in Mrs. Bishop's face. She said, 'Owing, Mr. Poirot, to the machinations of a snake in the grass.'
Poirot said, appearing suitably impressed, 'Indeed?'
Mrs. Bishop, her face becoming redder still, explained, 'In this country, Mr. Poirot, there is a certain Decency to be observed when mentioning the Dead, But that young woman, Mr. Poirot, was Underhand in her Dealings.'
Poirot looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. Then he said with an apparent lack of guile, 'You surprise me. I had been given the impression that she was a very simple and unassuming girl.'
Mrs. Bishop's chin trembled a little. 'She was Artful, Mr. Poirot. People were Taken In by her. That Nurse Hopkins, for instance! Yes, and my poor dear mistress, too!'
Poirot shook his head sympathetically and made a clacking noise with his tongue.
'Yes, indeed,' said Mrs. Bishop, stimulated by these encouraging noises. 'She was failing, poor dear, and that young woman Wormed her way into her Confidence. She knew which side of her bread was buttered. Always hovering about, reading to her, bringing her little nosegays of flowers. It was Mary this and Mary that and 'Where's Mary?' all the time! The money she spent on the girl, too! Expensive schools and finishing places abroad – and the girl nothing but old Gerrard's daughter! He didn't like it, I can tell you! Used to complain of her Fine Lady ways. Above Herself, that's what She was.'
This time Poirot shook his head and said commiseratingly, 'Dear, dear.'
'And then Making Up to Mr. Roddy the way she did! He was too simple to See Through her. And Miss Elinor, a nice minded young lady as she is, of course she wouldn't realize what was Going On. But Men, they are all alike: easily caught by flattery and a pretty face!'
Poirot sighed. 'She had, I suppose, admirers of her own class?' he asked.
'Of course she had. There was Rufus Bigland's son Ted – as nice a boy as you could find. But, oh, no, my fine lady was too good for him! I'd no patience with such airs and graces!'
Poirot said, 'Was he not angry about her treatment of him?'
'Yes, indeed. He accused her of carrying on with Mr. Roddy. I know that for a fact. I don't blame the boy for feeling sore!'
'Nor I,' said Poirot. 'You interest me extremely, Mrs. Bishop. Some people have the knack of presenting a character clearly and vigorously in a few words. It is a great gift. I have at last a clear picture of Mary Gerrard.'
'Mind you,' said Mrs. Bishop, 'I'm not saying a word against the girl! I wouldn't do such a thing – and she in her grave. But there's no doubt that she caused a lot of trouble!'
Poirot murmured, 'Where would it have ended, I wonder?'
'That's what I say!' said Mrs. Bishop. 'You can take it from me, Mr. Poirot, that if my dear mistress hadn't died when she did – awful as the shock was at the time, I see now that it was a Mercy in Disguise – I don't know what might have been the end of it!'
Poirot said invitingly, 'You mean?'
Mrs. Bishop said solemnly, 'I've come across it time and again. My own sister was in service where it happened. Once when old Colonel Randolph died and left every penny away from his poor wife to a hussy living at Eastbourne – and once old Mrs. Dacres – left it to the organist of the church – one of those long-haired young men – and she with married sons and daughters.'
Poirot said, 'You mean, I take it, that Mrs. Welman might have left all her money to Mary Gerrard?'
'It wouldn't have surprised me!' said Mrs. Bishop. 'That's what the young woman was working up to, I've no doubt. And if I ventured to say a word, Mrs. Welman was ready to bite my head off, though I'd been with her nearly twenty years. It's an ungrateful world, Mr. Poirot. You try to do your duty and it is not appreciated.'
'Alas,' sighed Poirot, 'how true that is!'
'But Wickedness doesn't always flourish,' said Mrs. Bishop.
Poirot said, 'True. Mary Gerrard is dead.'
Mrs. Bishop said comfortably, 'She's gone to her reckoning, and we mustn't judge her.'
Poirot mused, 'The circumstances of her death seem quite inexplicable.'
'These police and their new-fangled ideas,' said Mrs. Bishop. 'Is it likely that a well-bred, nicely brought-up young lady like Miss Elinor would go about poisoning anyone? Trying to drag me into it, too, saying I said her manner was peculiar!'
'But was it not peculiar?'
'And why shouldn't it be?' Mrs. Bishop's bust heaved with a flash of jet. 'Miss Elinor's a young lady of feelings. She was going to turn out her aunt's things – and that's always a painful business.'
Poirot nodded sympathetically. He said, 'It would have made it much easier for her if you had accompanied her.'
'I wanted to, Mr. Poirot, but she took me up quite sharp. Oh, well, Miss Elinor was always a very proud and reserved young lady. I wish, though, that I had gone with her.'
Poirot murmured, 'You did not think of following her up to the house?'
Mrs. Bishop reared her head majestically. 'I don't go where I'm not wanted, Mr. Poirot.'
Poirot looked abashed. He murmured, 'Besides, you had doubtless matters of importance to attend to that morning?'
'It was a very warm day, I remember. Very sultry.' She sighed. 'I walked to the cemetery to place a few flowers on Mrs. Welman's grave, a token of respect, and I had to rest there quite a long time. Quite overcome by the heat, I was. I got home late for lunch, and my sister was quite upset when she saw the State of Heat I was in! Said I never should have done it on a day like that.'
Poirot looked at her with admiration. He said, 'I envy you, Mrs. Bishop. It is pleasant indeed to have nothing with which to reproach oneself after a death. Mr. Roderick Welman, I fancy, must blame himself for not going in to see his aunt that night, though naturally he could not know she was going to pass away so soon.'
'Oh, but you're quite wrong, Mr. Poirot. I can tell you that for a fact. Mr. Roddy did go into his aunt's room. I
