'I've not told him. He just talks pompously about giving the police all the assistance possible. It's all right for him. He was at some ghastly political meeting that night.'
'And you?'
'I was just sitting at home. Listening to the radio actually.'
'But, if you can prove that -'
'How can I prove it? I offered the Crofts a fabulous sum to say they'd been in and out and seen me there – the damned swine refused.'
'That was a very unwise move on your part.'
'I don't see why. It would have settled the business.'
'You have probably convinced your servants that you did commit the murder.'
'Well – I'd paid Croft anyway for -'
'For what?'
'Nothing.'
'Remember – you want my help.'
'Oh! it was nothing that matters. But Croft took the message from her.'
'From Mrs Upward?'
'Yes. Asking me to go down and see her that night.'
'And you say you didn't go?'
'Why should I go? Damned dreary old woman. Why should I go and hold her hand? I never dreamed of going for a moment.'
'When did this message come?'
'When I was out. I don't know exactly when – between five and six, I think. Croft took it.'
'And you gave him money to forget he had taken that message. Why?'
'Don't be idiotic. I didn't want to get mixed up in it all.'
'And then you offer him money to give you an alibi? What do you suppose he and his wife think?'
'Who cares what they think!'
'A jury may care,' said Poirot gravely.
She stared at him.
'You're not serious?'
'I am serious.'
'They'd listen to servants – and not to me?'
Poirot looked at her.
Such crass rudeness and stupidity! Antagonising the people who might have been helpful. A short-sighted stupid policy. Short-sighted -
Such lovely wide blue eyes.
He said quietly:
'Why don't you wear glasses, madame? You need them.'
'What? Oh, I do sometimes. I did as a child.'
'And you had then a plate for your teeth.'
She stared.
'I did, as a matter of fact. Why all this?'
'The ugly duckling becomes the swan?'
'I was certainly ugly enough.'
'Did your mother think so?'
She said sharply:
'I don't remember my mother. What the hell are we talking about anyway? Will you take on the job?'
'I regret I cannot.'
'Why can't you?'
'Because in this affair I act for James Bentley.'
'James Bentley? Oh, you mean that half-wit who killed the charwoman. What's he got to do with the Upwards?'
'Perhaps – nothing.'
'Well, then! Is it a question of money? How much?'
'That is your great mistake, madame. You think always in terms of money. You have money and you think that only money counts.'
'I haven't always had money,' said Eve Carpenter.
'No,' said Poirot. 'I thought not.' He nodded his head gently. 'That explains a good deal. It excuses some things…'
II
Eve Carpenter went out the way she had come, blundering a little in the light as Poirot remembered her doing before.
Poirot said softly to himself:
'Evelyn Hope…'
So Mrs Upward had rung up both Deirdre Henderson and Evelyn Carpenter. Perhaps she had rung up someone else. Perhaps -
With a crash Maureen came in.
'It's my scissors now. Sorry lunch is late. I've got three pairs and I can't find one of them.'
She rushed over to the bureau and the process with which Poirot was well acquainted was repeated. This time, the objective was attained rather sooner. With a cry of joy, Maureen departed.
Almost automatically, Poirot stepped over and began to replace the things in the drawer. Sealing wax, notepaper, a work basket, photographs -
Photographs…
He stood staring at the photograph he held in his hand.
Footsteps rushed back along the passage.
Poirot could move quickly in spite of his age. He had dropped the photograph on the sofa, put a cushion on it, and had himself sat on the cushion, by the time that Maureen re-entered.
'Where the hell I've put a colander full of spinach -'
'But it is there, madame.'
He indicated the colander as it reposed beside him on the sofa.
'So that's where I left it.' She snatched it up. 'Everything is behind hand today…' Her glance took in Hercule Poirot sitting bolt upright.
'What on earth do you want to sit there for? Even on a cushion, it's the most uncomfortable seat in the room. All the springs are broken.'
'I know, madame. But I am – I am admiring that picture on the wall.'
Maureen glanced up at the oil painting of a naval officer complete with telescope.
'Yes – it's good. About the only good thing in the house. We're not sure that it isn't a Gainsborough.' She sighed. 'Johnnie won't sell it, though. It's his great-great and I think a few more greats, grandfather and he went down with his ship or did something frightfully gallant. Johnnie's terribly proud of it.'
'Yes,' said Poirot gently. 'Yes, he has something to be proud about, your husband!'
III
It was three o'clock when Poirot arrived at Dr Rendell's house.
