nothing but death that can free him.'
Poirot murmured, still in bewilderment, 'Yes, it is hard.'
Nurse O'Brien said, 'Did Nurse Hopkins tell you how her letter crossed mine?'
Poirot said truthfully, 'She did not tell me that.'
''Twas an odd coincidence. But there, that's always the way of it! Once you hear a name, maybe, and a day or two later you'll come across it again, and so on and so on. That I should be seeing the self-same photograph on the piano and at the same minute Nurse Hopkins was hearing all about it from the doctor's housekeeper.'
'That,' said Poirot, 'is very interesting.'
He murmured tentatively, 'Did Mary Gerrard know – about this?'
'Who'd be telling her?' said Nurse O'Brien. 'Not I – and not Hopkins. After all, what good would it be to her?'
She flung up her red head and gazed at him steadily. Poirot said with a sigh, 'What, indeed?'
Chapter 18
Elinor Carlisle. Across the width of the table that separated them Poirot looked at her searchingly.
They were alone together. Through a glass wall a warder watched them.
Poirot noted the sensitive, intelligent face with the square, white forehead, and the delicate modelling of the ears and nose. Fine lines; a proud, sensitive creature, showing breeding, self-restraint and – something else – a capacity for passion.
He said, 'I am Hercule Poirot. I have been sent to you by Dr. Peter Lord. He thinks that I can help you.'
Elinor Carlisle said, 'Peter Lord…'
Her tone was reminiscent. For a moment she smiled a little wistfully. She went on formally: 'It was kind of him, but I do not think there is anything you can do.'
Hercule Poirot said, 'Will you answer my questions?'
She sighed. She said, 'Believe me – really – it would be better not to ask them. I am in good hands. Mr. Seddon has been most kind. I am to have a very famous counsel.'
Poirot said, 'He is not so famous as I am!'
Elinor Carlisle said with a touch of weariness, 'He has a great reputation.'
'Yes, for defending criminals. I have a great reputation – for demonstrating innocence.'
She lifted her eyes at last – eyes of a vivid, beautiful blue. They looked straight into Poirot's. She said, 'Do you believe I am innocent?'
Hercule Poirot said, 'Are you?'
Elinor smiled, an ironic little smile. She said, 'Is that a sample of your questions? It is very easy, isn't it, to answer Yes?'
He said unexpectedly, 'You are very tired, are you not?'
Her eyes widened a little. She answered, 'Why, yes – that more than anything. How did you know?'
Hercule Poirot said, 'I knew.'
Elinor said, 'I shall be glad when it is – over.'
Poirot looked at her for a minute in silence. Then he said, 'I have seen your – cousin, shall I call him for convenience? – Mr. Roderick Welman.'
Into the white, proud face the colour crept slowly. He knew then that one question of his was answered without his asking it.
She said, and her voice shook very slightly, 'You've seen Roddy?'
Poirot said, 'He is doing all he can for you.'
'I know.' Her voice was quick and soft.
Poirot said, 'Is he poor or rich?'
'Roddy? He has not very much money of his own.'
'And he is extravagant?'
She said, almost absently, 'Neither of us ever thought it mattered. We knew that some day -'
She stopped.
Poirot said quickly, 'You counted on your inheritance? That is understandable.'
He went on: 'You have heard, perhaps, the result of the autopsy on your aunt's body. She died of morphine poisoning.'
Elinor Carlisle said coldly, 'I did not kill her.'
'Did you help her to kill herself?'
'Did I help -? Oh, I see. No, I did not.'
'Did you know that your aunt had not made a will?'
'No, I had no idea of that.'
Her voice was flat now – dull. The answer was mechanical, uninterested.
Poirot said, 'And you yourself, have you made a will?'
'Yes.'
'Did you make it the day Dr. Lord spoke to you about it?'
'Yes.' Again that swift wave of colour.
Poirot said, 'How have you left your fortune, Miss Carlisle?'
Elinor said quietly, 'I have left everything to Roddy – to Roderick Welman.'
Poirot said, 'Does he know that?'
She said quickly, 'Certainly not.'
'You didn't discuss it with him?'
'Of course not. He would have been horribly embarrassed and would have disliked what I was doing very much.'
'Who else knows the contents of your will?'
'Only Mr. Seddon – and his clerks, I suppose.'
'Did Mr. Seddon draw up the will for you?'
'Yes. I wrote to him that same evening – I mean the evening of the day Dr. Lord spoke to me about it.'
'Did you post your letter yourself?'
'No. It went in the box from the house with the other letters.'
'You wrote it, put it in an envelope, sealed it, stamped it, and put it in the box – comme ca? You did not pause to reflect? To read it over?'
Elinor said, staring at him, 'I read it over – yes, I had gone to look for some stamps. When I came back with them, I just re-read the letter to be sure I had put it clearly.'
'Was anyone in the room with you?'
'Only Roddy.'
'Did he know what you were doing?'
'I told you- no.'
'Could anyone have read that letter when you were out of the room?'
'I don't know. One of the servants, you mean? I suppose they could have if they had chanced to come in while I was out of the room.'
'And before Mr. Roderick Welman entered it?'
'Yes.'
Poirot said, 'And he could have read it, too?'
Elinor's voice was clear and scornful. She said, 'I can assure you, Monsieur Poirot, that my 'cousin,' as you call him, does not read other people's letters.'
Poirot said, 'That is the accepted idea, I know. You would be surprised how many people do the things that 'are not done.''
Elinor shrugged her shoulders.
Poirot said in a casual voice, 'Was it on that day that the idea of killing Mary Gerrard first came to you?'
