Spence repeated obstinately:
'I should have got that. And the bottle of ink -'
'I heard of that by the merest chance.'
'Yet it meant something to you – why?'
'Only because of that chance phrase about writing a letter. You and I, Spence, we write so many letters – to us it is such a matter of course.'
Superintendent Spence sighed. Then he laid out on the table four photographs.
'These are the photos you asked me to get – the original photos that the Sunday Companion used. At any rate they're a little clearer than the reproductions. But upon my word, they're not much to go upon. Old, faded – and with women the hair-do makes a difference. There's nothing definite in any of them to go upon like ears or a profile. That cloche hat and that arty hair and the roses! Doesn't give you a chance.'
'You agree with me that we can discard Vera Blake?'
'I should think so. If Vera Blake was in Broadhinny, everyone would know it – telling the sad story of her life seems to have been her specialty.'
'What can you tell me about the others?'
'I've got what I could for you in the time. Eva Kane left the country after Craig was sentenced. And I can tell you the name she took. It was Hope. Symbolic, perhaps?'
Poirot murmured:
'Yes, yes – the romantic approach. 'Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead.' A line from one of your poets. I dare say she thought of that. Was her name Evelyn, by the way?'
'Yes, I believe it was. But Eva was what she was known as always. And by the way, M. Poirot, now that we're on the subject, the police opinion of Eva Kane doesn't quite square with this article here. Very far from it.'
Poirot smiled.
'What the police think – it is not evidence. But it is usually a very sound guide. What did the police think of Eva Kane?'
'That she was by no means the innocent victim that the public thought her. I was quite a young chap at the time and remember hearing it discussed by my old Chief and Inspector Traill who was in charge of the case. Traill believed (no evidence, mind you) that the pretty little idea of putting Mrs Craig out of the way was all Eva Kane's idea – and that she not only thought of it, but she did it. Craig came home one day and found his little friend had taken a short cut. She thought it would all pass off as natural death, I dare say. But Craig knew better. He got the wind up and disposed of the body in the cellar and elaborated the plan of having Mrs Craig die abroad. Then, when the whole thing came out, he was frantic in his asseverations that he'd done it alone, that Eva Kane had known nothing about it. Well,' Superintendent Spence shrugged his shoulders, 'nobody could prove anything else. The stuff was in the house. Either of them could have used it. Pretty Eva Kane was all innocence and horror. Very well she did it, too: a clever little actress. Inspector Traill had his doubts – but there was nothing to go upon. I'm giving you that for what it's worth, M. Poirot. It's not evidence.'
'But it suggests the possibility that one, at least, of these 'tragic women' was something more than a tragic woman – that she was a murderess and that, if the incentive was strong enough, she might murder again… And now the next one, Janice Courtland, what can you tell me about her?'
'I've looked up the files. A nasty bit of goods. If we hanged Edith Thompson we certainly ought to have hanged Janice Courtland. An unpleasant pair, she and her husband, nothing to choose between them, and she worked on that young man until she had him all up in arms. But all the time, mark you, there was a rich man in the background, and it was to marry him she wanted her husband out of the way.'
'Did she marry him?'
Spence shook his head.
'No idea.'
'She went abroad – and then?'
Spence shook his head.
'She was a free woman. She'd not been charged with anything. Whether she married, or what happened to her, we don't know.'
'One might meet her at a cocktail party any day,' said Poirot, thinking of Dr Rendell's remark.
'Exactly.'
Poirot shifted his gaze to the last photograph.
'And the child? Lily Gamboll?'
'Too young to be charged with murder. She was sent to an approved school. Good record there. Was taught shorthand and typing and was found a job under probation. Did well. Last heard of in Ireland. I think we could wash her out, you know, M. Poirot, same as Vera Blake. After all, she'd made good, and people don't hold it against a kid of twelve for doing something in a fit of temper. What about washing her out?'
'I might,' said Poirot, 'if it were not for the chopper. It is undeniable that Lily Gamboll used a chopper on her aunt, and the unknown killer of Mrs McGinty used something that was said to be like a chopper.'
'Perhaps you're right. Now, M. Poirot, let's have your side of things. Nobody's tried to do you in, I'm glad to see.'
'N-no,' said Poirot, with a momentary hesitation.
'I don't mind telling you I've had the wind up about you once or twice since that evening in London. Now what are the possibilities amongst the residents of Broadhinny?'
Poirot opened his little notebook.
'Eva Kane, if she is still alive, would be now approaching sixty. Her daughter, of whose adult life our Sunday Companion paints such a touching picture, would be now in the thirties. Lily Gamboll would also be about that age. Janice Courtland would now be not far short of fifty.'
Spence nodded agreement.
'So we come to the residents of Broadhinny, with especial reference to those for whom Mrs McGinty worked.'
'That last is a fair assumption, I think.'
'Yes, it is complicated by the fact that Mrs McGinty did occasional odd work here and there, but we will assume for the time being that she saw whatever she did see, presumably a photograph, at one of her regular 'houses.''
'Agreed.'
'Them as far as age goes, that gives us as possibles – first the Wetherbys where Mrs McGinty worked on the day of her death. Mrs Wetherby is the right age for Eva Kane and she has a daughter of the right age to be Eva Kane's daughter – a daughter said to be by previous marriage.'
'And as regards the photograph?'
'Mon cher, no positive identification from that is possible. Too much time has passed, too much water, as you say, has flowed from the waterworks. One can but say this: Mrs Wetherby has been, decidedly, a pretty woman. She has all the mannerisms of one. She seems much too fragile and helpless to do murder, but then that was, I understand, the popular belief about Eva Kane. How much actual physical strength would have been needed to kill Mrs McGinty is difficult to say without knowing exactly what weapon was used, its handle, the ease with which it could be swung, the sharpness of its cutting edge, etcetera.'
'Yes, yes. Why we never managed to find that – but go on.'
'The only other remarks I have to make about the Wetherby household are that Mr Wetherby could make himself, and I fancy does make himself, very unpleasant if he likes. The daughter is fanatically devoted to her mother. She hates her stepfather. I do not remark on these facts. I present them, only, for consideration. Daughter might kill to prevent mother's past coming to stepfather's ears. Mother might kill for same reason. Father might kill to prevent 'scandal' coming out. More murders have been committed for respectability than one would believe possible! The Wetherbys are 'nice people.''
Spence nodded.
'If – I say if – there is anything in this Sunday Companion business, then the Wetherbys are clearly the best bet,' he said.
'Exactly. The only other person in Broadhinny who would fit in age with Eva Kane is Mrs Upward. There are
