There was amus.e.m.e.nt rather than tension in the faces that were turned towards him. Menace had materialised in the shape of Inspector Morton and Superintendent Parwell. With the police in charge, questioning, asking for statements, Hercule Poirot, private detective, lad receded into something closely resembling a joke.

Timothy was not far from voicing the general feeling when he remarked in an audible sotto vocto his wife: "d.a.m.ned little mountebank I Entwhistle must be gaga I --that's all I can say."

It looked as though Hercule Poirot would have to work hard to make his proper effect.

He began in a slightly pompous manner.

"For the second time, I announce my departure l This morning I announced it for the twelve o'clock train. This evening I announce it for the nine-thirty--immediately, that is, after dinner. I go because there is nothing more here for me to do."

"Could have told him that all along." Timothy's commentary was still in evidence. "Never was anything for him to do. The cheek of these fallows I"

I8

"I came here originally to solve a riddle. The riddle is solved. Let me, first, go over the various points which were brought to my attention by the excellent Mr. Entwhistle.

"First, Mr. Richard Abernethie dies suddenly. Secondly, after his funeral, his sister Cora Lansquenet says, 'He was murdered, wasn't he ?' Thirdly Mrs. Lansquenet is killed.

The question is, are those three things part of a sequence ? Let us observe what happens next ? Miss Gilchrist, the dead woman's companion, is taken ill after eating a piece of wedding cake which contains a.r.s.enic. That, then, is the next step in the sequence.

"Now, as I told you this morning, in the course of my inquiries I have come across nothing--nothing at all, to substantiate the belief that Mr. Abernethie was poispned.

Equally, I may say, I have found nothing to prove conclusively that he was not poisoned. But as we proceed, things become easier. Cora Lansquenet undoubtedly asked that sensational question at the funeral. Everyone agrees upon that. And undoubtedly, on the following day, Mrs. Lansquenet was murdered--a hatchet being the instrument employed. Now let us examine the fourth happening. The local post van drix*er is strongly of the beliefthough he will not definitely swear to it---that he did not deliver that parcel of wedding cake in the usual way. And if that is so, then the parcel was left by hand and though we cannot exclude a ' person unknown'

--we must take particular notice of those people who were actually on the spot and in a position to put the parcel where it was subsequently found. Those were: Miss Gilchrist herself, of course; Susan Banks who came down that day for the inquest; Mr. Entwhistle (but yes, we must consider Mr. Entwhistle; he was present, remember, when Cork made her disquieting remark I) And there were two other people.

An old gentleman who represented himself to be a Mr. Gutkrie, an art critic, and a nun or nuns wire called early that morning to collect a subscription.

"Now I decided that I would start on the a.s.sumption that the postal van driver's recollection was correct. Therefore the little group of people under suspicion must be very carefully studied. Miss Gilchrist did not benefit in any way by Richard Abernethie's death and in only a very minute degree by Mrs. Lansquenet's--in actual fact the death of the latter put her out of employment and left her with the possibility of finding it difficult to get new employment. Also Miss Gilchrist was taken to hospital definitely suffering from a.r.s.enical poisoning.

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"Susan Banks did benefit from Richard Abernethie's death, and in a small degree from Mrs. Lansquenet's--though here her motive must almost certainly have been security.

She might have very good reason to believe that Miss Gilchrist had overheard a conversation between Cora Lansquenet and her brother which referred to her, and she might therefore decide that Miss Gilchrist must be eliminated. She herself, remember, refused to partake of the wedding cake and also suggested not calling in a doctor until the morning, when Migs Gilchrist was taken ill in the night.

"Mr. Entwhistle did not benefit by either of the deaths--but he had had considerable control over Mr. Abernethie's affairs, and the trust funds, and there might well be some reason why Richard Abernethie should not live too long.

IBut--you will say--if it is Mr. Entwhistle who was concerned, why should he come to me ?

"And to that I will answer--it is not the first time that a murderer has been too sure of himself.

"We now come to what I may call the two outsiders.

Mr. Guthrie and a nun. If Mr. Guthrie is really Mr. Guthrie, the art critic, then that clears him. The same applies to the nun, if she is really a nun. The question is, are these people themselves, or are they somebody else ?

"And I may say that there seems to be a curious---motif-- one might call it--of a nun running through this business.

A nun comes to the door of Mr. Timothy Abernethie's house and Miss Gilchrist believes it is the same nun she has seen at Lychett St. Mary. Also a nun, or nuns, called here the day before Mr. Abernethie died..."

George Crossfield murmured, "Three to one, the nun."

Poirot went on:

"So he we have certain pieces of our pattern--the death of Mr. Abernethie, the murder of Cora Lansq,uenet, the poi-soned wedding cake, the ' motif' of the ' nun.

"I will add some other features of the case that engaged my attention:

"The visit of an art critic, a smell of oil paint, a picture postcard of Polflexan harbour, and finally a bouquet of wax flowers standing on that malachite table where a Chinese vase stands now.

"It was reflecting on these things that led me to the truth mand I am now about to tell you the truth.

"The first part of it I told you this morning. Richard Aberuethie died suddenly--but there would have been no reason at all to suspect foul play had it not been for the

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words uttered by his sister Cora at his funeral. Th whole css for the murder of Richard A bernethie rests upon thos words. As a result of them, you all believed that murder had taken place, and you believed it, not really because of the words themselves but because of the character of Cora Lansquenet herself. For Cora Lansquenet had always been famous for speaking the truth at awkward moments. So the case for Richard's murder rested not only upon what Cora had said but upon Cora herself.

"And now I come to the question that I suddenly asked myself: "How well did you all know Cora Lansquenet ?"

He was silent for a moment, and Susan asked sharply, "What do you mean ?"

Poirot went on: "Not well at a//---that is the answer I The younger generation had never seen her at all, or if so, only when they were very young children. There were actually only three people present that day who actually knew Cora. Lans...o...b.., the butler, who is old and very blind; Mrs. Timothy Abernethie who had only seen her a few times round about the date of her own wedding, and Mrs. Leo Abernethie who had known her quite well, but who had not seen her for over twenty years.

"So I said to myself: ' Supposing it was not Cora Lansquenet who came to the funeral that day ? '"

"Do you mean that Aunt Cora--wasn't Aunt Cora ?"

Susan demanded incredulously. "Do you mean tlaat it wasn't Aunt Cora who was murdered, but someone else ?"

"No, no, it was Cora Lansquenet who was murdered. But it was not Cora Lansquenet who came the day before to her brother's funeral. The woman who came that day came for one purpose only--to exploit, one may say, the fact that Richard died suddenly. And to create in the minds of his relations the belief that he had been murdered. Which she managed to do most successfully I"

"Nonsense I Why ? What was the point of it ?" Maude spoke bluffly.

"Why ? To draw attention away from the other murder. From the murder of Cora Lansquenet herself.

For if Cora says that Richard has been murdered and the next day she herself is killed, the two deaths are bound to be at least considered as possible cause and effect. But if Cora is murdered and her cottage is broken into, and if the apparent robbery does not convince the police, then they will lookmwhere ?

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Close at home, will they not ? Suspicion will tend to fall on the woman who shares the house with her."

Miss Gilchrist protested in a tone that was almost bright: "Oh come---really--Mr. Pontarlier--you don't suggest I'd commit a murder for an amethyst brooch and a few worthless sketches ?"

"No," said Poirot. "For a little more than that. There was one of those sketches, Miss Gilchrist, that represented Polflexan harbour and which, as Mrs. Banks was clever enough to realise, had been c.o-I?ed from a picture postcard which showed the old pier still in position. But Mrs. Lansquenet painted always from life. I remembered then that Mr. Ent-whistle had mentioned there being a srll of oil paint in the cottage when he first got there. You can paint, can't you, Miss Gilchrist ? Your father was an artist and you know a good deal about pictures. Supposing that one of the pictures that Cora picked up cheaply at a sale was a valuable picture.

Supposing that she herself did not recotgnise it for what it was, but that you did. You knew she was expecting, very shortly, a visit from an old friend of hers who was a well-known art critic. Then her brother dies suddenly--and a plan leaps into your head. Easy to administer a sedative to her in her early cup of tea that will keep her unconscious for the whole of the day of the funeral whilst you yourself are playing her part at Enderby. You know Enderby well from listening to her talk about it. She has talked, as people do when they get on in life, a great deal about her childhood days. Easy for you to start off by a remark to old Lans...o...b.. about meringues and huts which will make him quite sure of your ident.i.ty in case he was inclined to doubt. Yes, you used your knowledge of Enderby well that day, with allusions to this and that, and recalling memories. None of them suspected you were not Cora. You were wearing her clothes, slightly padded, and since she wore a false front of hair, it was easy for you to a.s.sume that. n.o.body had seen Cora for twenty years--and in twenty years people change so much that one often hears the remark: ' I would never have known her I '

But mannerisms are remembered, and Cora had certain very definite mannerisms, all of which you had practised carefully before the gla.s.s.

"And it was there, strangely enough, that you made your first mistake. You forgot that a mirror imag is rvrsd. When you saw in the gla.s.s the perfect reproduction of Cora's bird-like sidewise tilt of the head, you didn't realise that it was actually the wrong way round. You saw, let us say, Cora 86

inclining her head to the right--but you forgot that actually your own head was inclined to the lft to produce, that effect n th gla.s.s.

"That was what puzzled and worried Helen Abernethie at the moment when you made your famous insinuation. Something seemed to her' wrong.' I realised myself the other night when Rosamund Shane made an unexpected remark what happens on such an occasion. Everybody inevitably looks at the speaker. Therefore, when Mrs. Leo felt something was 'wrong,' it must be that something was wrong with Cora Lansqusntt. The other evening, after talk about mirror images and 'seeing oneself' I think Mrs. Leo experimented before a looking-gla.s.s. Her own face is not particularly asymmetrical. She probably thought of Cora, remembered how Cora used to incline her head to the right, did so, and looked in the gla.s.s when, of course, the image seemed to her 'wrong' and she realised, in a flash, just what had been wrong on the day of the funeral. She puzzled it out--either Cora had taken to inclining her head in the opposite direction --most unlikely--or else Cora had not ben Cora. Neither way seemed to her to make sense. But she determined to tell Mr..Entwhistle of her discovery at once. Someone who was used to getting up early was already about, and followed her down, and fearful of what revelations she might be about to make struck her down with a heavy doorstop."

Poirot paused and added: "I may as well tell you now, Miss Gilchrist, that Mrs.

Abernetkie's concussion is not serious. She will soon be able to tell us her own story."

"I never did anything of the sort," said Miss Gilchrist.

"The whole thing is a wicked lie."

"It was you that day," said Michael Shane suddenly. He had been studying Miss Gilchrist's face. "I ought to have seen it sooner--I felt in a vague kind of way I had seen you before somewhere---but of course one never looks much at "he stopped.

"No, one doesn't bother to look at a mere companion-help,"

said Miss Gilchxist. Her voice shook a little. "A drudge, a domestic drudge I Almost a servant I But go on, M. Poirot.

Go on with this fantastic piece of nonsense 1"

"The suggestion of murder thrown out at the funeral was .only the first step, of course," said Poirot. "You had more n reserve. At any moment you were prepared to admit to having listened to a conversation between Richard and his sister. What he actually told her, no doubt, was the fact that x87

he had not long to live, and that explains a cryptic phrase in the letter he wrote her after getting home. The ' nun ' was another of your suggestions. The nun--or rather nuns--who called at the cottage on the day of the inquest suggested to you a mention of a nun who was ' following you round,' and ?

u used that when you were anxious to hear what Mrs.

mothy was saying to her sister-in-law at Enderby. And also because you wished to accompany her there and find out for yourself l.u.s.t how suspicions were going. Actually to poison yourself, badly but not fatally, with a.r.s.enic, is a very old device--and I may say ,that it served to awaken Inspector Morton's suspicions of you.

"But the picture ?" said Rosamund. "What kind of a picture was it ?"

Poirot slowly unfolded a telegram.

"Ths' morningv I rangy up Mr. Entwhistle,. a responsible person, to go to Stansfield Grange and, acting on aumonry from Mr. Abernethie himself" (here Poirot gave a hard stare at Timothy) "to look amongst the pictures in Miss Gilchrist's room and select the one of Polflexan Harbour on pretext of having it reframed as a surprise for Miss Gilchrist. He was to take it back to London and call upon Mr. Guthrie whom I had warned by telegram. The hastily painted sketch of Polflexan Harbour was removed and the original picture exposed."

He held up the telegram and read: "Definitely a Vermeer. Guthrie."

Suddenly, with electrifying effect, Miss Gilchrist burst into speech.

"I knew it was a Vermeer. I knew it I She didn't know I Talking about Rembrandts and Italian Primitives and unable to recognise a Vermeer when it was under her nose I Always prating about Art--and really knowing nothing about it!

She was a thoroughly stupid woman. Always maundering on about this place--about Enderby, and what they did there as children, and about Richard and Timothy and Laura and all the rest of them. Rolling in money always! Always the best of everything those children had. You don't know how boring it is listening to somebody going on about the same things, hour after hour and day after day. And saying, ' Oh yes, Mrs. Lansquenet' and 'Really, Mrs. Lansquenet ?'

Pretending to be interested. And really bored--bored-- bored... And nothing to look forward to... And then--a Vermeer I I saw in the papers that a Vermeer sold the other day for over five thousand pounds I"

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"You killed her--in that brutal way--for five thousand pounds ?" Susan's voice was incredulous.

"Five thousand pounds," said Poirot, "would have rented