"You mean that you would prefer to relinquish the money?" asked Poirot.
Just for a moment I fancied a flicker of some quite different expression showed itself in Miss Lawson's dull, pale blue eyes. I imagined that, just for a moment, a shrewd, intelligent woman sat there instead of an amiable, foolish one.
She said with a little laugh:
"Well – of course, there is the other side of it too… I mean there are two sides to every question. What I say is, Miss Arundell meant me to have the money. I mean if I didn't take it I should be going against her wishes. And that wouldn't be right either, would it?"
"It is a difficult question," said Poirot, shaking his head.
"Yes, indeed, I have worried over it a great deal. Mrs Tanios – Bella – she is such a nice woman – and those dear little children! I mean, I feel sure Miss Arundell wouldn't have wanted her to – I feel, you see, that dear Miss Arundell intended me to use my discretion. She didn't want to leave any money outright to Bella because she was afraid that man would get hold of it."
"What man?"
"Her husband. You know, Mr Poirot, the poor girl is quite under his thumb. She does anything he tells her. I dare say she'd murder some one if he told her to! And she's afraid of him. I'm quite sure she's afraid of him. I've seen her look simply terrified once or twice. Now that isn't right, Mr Poirot – you can't say that's right."
Poirot did not say so. Instead he inquired:
"What sort of man is Dr Tanios?"
"Well," said Miss Lawson hesitatingly, "he's a very pleasant man."
She stopped doubtfully.
"But you don't trust him?"
"Well – no, I don't. I don't know," went on Miss Lawson doubtfully, "that I'd trust any man very much! Such dreadful things one hears! And all their poor wives go through! It's really terrible! Of course. Dr Tanios pretends to be very fond of his wife and he's quite charming to her. His manners are really delightful. But I don't trust foreigners. They're so artful! And I'm quite sure dear Miss Arundell didn't want her money to get into his hands!"
"It is hard on Miss Theresa Arundell and Mr Charles Arundell also to be deprived of their inheritance," Poirot suggested.
A spot of colour came into Miss Lawson's face.
"I think Theresa has quite as much money as is good for her!" she said sharply. "She spends hundreds of pounds on her clothes alone. And her underclothing – it's wicked! When one thinks of so many nice, well-bred girls who have to earn their own living -"
Poirot gently completed the sentence.
"You think it would do no harm for her to earn hers for a bit?"
Miss Lawson looked at him solemnly.
"It might do her a lot of good," she said. "It might bring her to her senses. Adversity teaches us many things."
Poirot nodded slowly. He was watching her intently.
"And Charles?"
"Charles doesn't deserve a penny," said Miss Lawson sharply. "If Miss Arundell cut him out of her will, it was for a very good cause – after his wicked threats."
"Threats?" Poirot's eyebrows rose.
"Yes, threats."
"What threats? When did he threaten her?"
"Let me see, it was – yes, of course, it was at Easter. Actually on Easter Sunday – which made it even worse!"
"What did he say?"
"He asked her for money and she'd refused to give it him! And then he told her that it wasn't wise of her. He said if she kept up that attitude he would – now what was the phrase – a very vulgar American one – oh, yes, he said he would bump her off."
"He threatened to bump her off?"
"Yes."
"And what did Miss Arundell say?"
"She said: 'I think you'll find, Charles, that I can look after myself.'"
"You were in the room at the time?"
"Not exactly in the room," said Miss Lawson after a momentary pause.
"Quite, quite," said Poirot hastily. "And Charles, what did he say to that?"
"He said: 'Don't be too sure.'"
Poirot said slowly:
"Did Miss Arundell take this threat seriously?"
"Well, I don't know… She didn't say anything to me about it… But then she wouldn't do that, anyway."
Poirot said quietly:
"You knew, of course, that Miss Arundell was making a new will?"
"No, no. I've told you, it was a complete surprise. I never dreamt -"
Poirot interrupted.
"You did not know the contents. But you knew the fact – that there was a will being made?"
"Well – I suspected – I mean her sending for the lawyer when she was laid up -"
"Exactly. That was after she had a fall, was it not?"
"Yes, Bob – Bob was the dog – he had left his ball at the top of the stairs – and she tripped over it and fell."
"A nasty accident."
"Oh, yes; why, she might easily have broken her leg or her arm. The doctor said so."
"She might quite easily have been killed."
"Yes, indeed."
Her answer seemed quite natural and frank.
Poirot said, smiling:
"I think I saw Master Bob at Littlegreen House."
"Oh, yes, I expect you did. He's a dear little doggie."
Nothing annoys me more than to hear a sporting terrier called a dear little doggie. No wonder, I thought, that Bob despised Miss Lawson and refused to do anything she told him.
"And he is very intelligent?" went on Poirot.
"Oh, yes, very."
"How upset he'd be if he knew he had nearly killed his mistress."
Miss Lawson did not answer. She merely shook her head and sighed.
Poirot asked:
"Do you think it possible that that fall influenced Miss Arundell to remake her will?"
We were getting perilously near the bone here, I thought, but Miss Lawson seemed to find the question quite natural.
"You know," she said, "I shouldn't wonder if you weren't right. It gave her a shock – I'm sure of that. Old people never like to think there's any chance of their dying. But an accident like that makes one think. Or perhaps she might have had a premonition that her death wasn't far off."
Poirot said casually:
"She was in fairly good health, was she not?"
"Oh, yes. Very well, indeed."
"Her illness must have come on very suddenly?"
"Oh, it did. It was quite a shock. We had had some friends that evening -" Miss Lawson paused.
"Your friends, the Misses Tripp. I have met those ladies. They are quite charming."
Miss Lawson's face flushed with pleasure.
"Yes, aren't they? Such cultured women! Such wide interests! And so very spiritual! They told you, perhaps – about our sittings? I expect you are a sceptic – but indeed, I wish I could tell you the inexpressible joy of getting into touch with those who passed over!"
"I am sure of it. I am sure of it."
"Do you know, M. Poirot, my mother has spoken to me – more than once. It is such a joy to know that one's dear ones are still thinking of one and watching over one."
"Yes, yes, I can well understand that," said Poirot gently. "And was Miss Arundell also a believer?"
Miss Lawson's face clouded over a little.
"She was willing to be convinced," she said doubtfully. "But I do not think she always approached the matter in the right frame of mind. She was sceptical and unbelieving – and once or twice her attitude attracted a most undesirable type of spirit! There were some very ribald messages – all due, I am convinced, to Miss Arundell's attitude."
"I should think very likely due to Miss Arundell," agreed Poirot.
"But on that last evening -" continued Miss Lawson, "perhaps Isabel and Julia told you? – there were distinct phenomena. Actually the beginning of a materialization. Ectoplasm – you know what ectoplasm is, perhaps?"
"Yes, yes, I am acquainted with its nature."
"It proceeds, you know, from the mediu
m's mouth in the form of a ribbon and builds itself up into a form. Now I am convinced, Mr Poirot, that unknown to herself Miss Arundell was a medium. On that evening I distinctly saw a luminous ribbon issuing from dear Miss Arundell's mouth! Then her head became enveloped in a luminous mist."
"Most interesting!"
"And then, unfortunately, Miss Arundell was suddenly taken ill and we had to break up the seance."
"You sent for the doctor – when?"
"First thing the following morning."
"Did he think the matter grave?"
"Well, he sent in a hospital nurse the following evening but I think he hoped she would pull through."
"The – excuse me – the relatives were not sent for?"
Miss Lawson flushed.
"They were notified as soon as possible – that is to say, when Dr Grainger pronounced her to be in danger."
"What was the cause of the attack? Something she had eaten?"
"No, I don't think there was anything in particular. Dr Grainger said she hadn't been quite as careful in diet as she should have been. I think he thought the attack was probably brought on by a chill. The weather had been very treacherous."
"Theresa and Charles Arundell had been down that weekend, had they not?"
Miss Lawson pursed her lips together.
"They had."
"The visit was not a success," Poirot suggested, watching her.
"It was not." She added quite spitefully: "Miss Arundell knew what they'd come for!"
"Which was?" asked Poirot, watching her.
"Money!" snapped Miss Lawson. "And they didn't get it."
"No?" said Poirot.
"And I believe that's what Dr Tanios was after too," she went on.
"Dr Tanios. He was not down that same weekend, was he?"
"Yes, he came down on the Sunday. He only stayed about an hour."
"Every one seems to have been after poor Miss Arundell's money," hazarded Poirot.
"I know, it is not very nice to think of, is it?"
"No, indeed," said Poirot. "It must have been a shock to Charles and Theresa Arundell that weekend when they learned that Miss Arundell had definitely disinherited them!"
Miss Lawson stared at him.
Poirot said:
"Is that not so? Did she not specifically inform them of the fact?"
"As to that, I couldn't say. I didn't hear anything about it! There wasn't any fuss, or anything, as far as I know. Both Charles and his sister seemed to go away quite cheerful."
"Ah! possibly I have been misinformed. Miss Arundell actually kept her will in the house, did she not?"
Miss Lawson dropped her pince-nez and stooped to pick them up.
"I really couldn't say. No, I think it was with Mr Purvis."
"Who was the executor?"
"Mr Purvis was."
"After the death, did he come over and look through her papers?"
"Yes, he did."
Poirot looked at her keenly and asked her an unexpected question.
"Do you like Mr Purvis?"
Miss Lawson was flustered.
"Like Mr Purvis? Well, really, that's difficult to say, isn't it? I mean, I'm sure he's a very clever man – that is, a clever lawyer, I mean. But rather a brusque manner! I mean, it's not very pleasant always to have some one speaking to you as though – well, really, I can't explain what I mean – he was quite civil and yet at the same time almost rude, if you know what I mean."
"A difficult situation for you," said Poirot sympathetically.
"Yes, indeed, it was."
Miss Lawson sighed and shook her head.
Poirot rose to his feet.
"Thank you very much, mademoiselle, for all your kindness and help."
Miss Lawson rose too. She sounded slightly flustered.
"I'm sure there's nothing to thank me for – nothing at all! So glad if I've been able to do anything – if there's anything more I can do -"
Poirot came back from the door. He lowered his voice.
"I think, Miss Lawson, that there is something you ought to be told. Charles and Theresa Arundell are hoping to upset this will."
A sharp flush of colour came into Miss Lawson's cheek.
"They can't do that," she said sharply. "My lawyer says so."
"Ah," said Poirot. "You have consulted a lawyer, then?"
"Certainly. Why shouldn't I?"
"No reason at all. A very wise proceeding. Good-day to you, mademoiselle."
When we emerged from Clanroyden Mansions into the street Poirot drew a deep breath.
"Hastings, mon ami, that woman is either exactly what she seems or else she is a very good actress."
"She doesn't believe Miss Arundell's death was anything but natural. You can see that," I said.
Poirot did not answer. There are moments when he is conveniently deaf. He hailed a taxi.
"Durham Hotel, Bloomsbury," he told the driver.
Chapter 16
MRS. TANIOS
"A gentleman is looking for you, madam."
The woman who was writing at a table in the sitting-room of the Durham hotel, turned her head, stood up, and came to meet us.
Mrs Tanios could have been any age over thirty. She was a tall, lean woman of dark hair, inexpressive eyes and a restless face. A fashionable hat was hanging on her had at a weird angle, and she used a bad-looking cotton dress.
"I don't believe -" she started vaguely.
Poirot made a bow.
"I am just coming from a visit at your cousin, Miss Theresa Arundell."
"Oh, Theresa? Yes?"
"Could you spare a few minutes for a private matter?"
Mrs Tanios looked around. Poirot suggested a leather sofa in a secluded corner. Walking in that direction, we heard a children's voice:
"Mommy, where are you going?"
"That way. Come, go on with your letter, dear."
The child, a thin girl of about seven years went back to what she was doing.
The corner of the room was deserted. Mrs Tanios sat down, and so did we. She looked questioningly at Poirot.
The detective started:
"It is about your aunt's death."
"Yes."
"Miss Arundell changed her will very shortly before her death, leaving all her estate to Miss Wilhelmina Lawson. I would like to know, Mrs Tanios, if you support your cousins in the effort to try to get an annulment of this document."
"Oh!" Mrs Tanios drew a deep breath. "But I don't think that's possible, is it? I mean, my husband consulted a lawyer and he seemed to think that it was better not to attempt it."
"Lawyers, madame, are cautious people. Their advice is usually to avoid litigation at all costs – and no doubt they are usually right. But there are times when it pays to take a risk. I am not a lawyer myself and therefore I look at the matter rather differently. Miss Arundell – Miss Theresa Arundell, I mean – is prepared to fight. What about you?"
"I – Oh! I really don't know." She twisted her fingers nervously together. "I should have to consult my husband."
"Certainly, you must consult your husband before anything definite is undertaken. But what are your own feelings in the matter?"
"Well, really, I don't know." Mrs Tanios looked more worried than ever. "It depends so much on my husband."
"But you yourself, what do you think, madame?"
Mrs Tanios frowned, then she said slowly:
"I don't think I like the idea very much. It seems – it seems rather indecent, doesn't it?"
"Does it, madame?"
"Yes – after all, if Aunt Emily chose to leave her money away from her family, I suppose we must put up with it."
"You do not feel aggrieved in the matter, then?"
"Oh, yes, I do." A quick flush showed in her cheeks. "I think it was most unfair! Most unfair! And so unexpected. It was so unlike Aunt Emily. And so very unfair on the children."
"You think it is very unlike Miss Emily Arundell?"
"I think it was e
xtraordinary of her!"
"Then isn't it possible that she was not acting of her own free will? Don't you think that perhaps she was being unduly influenced?"
Mrs Tanios frowned again. Then she said almost unwillingly:
"The difficult thing is that I can't see Aunt Emily being influenced by anybody! She was such a decided old lady."
Poirot nodded approvingly.
"Yes, what you say is true. And Miss Lawson is hardly what one would describe as a strong character."
"No, she's a nice creature, really – rather foolish, perhaps – but very, very kind. That's partly why I feel -"
"Yes, madame?" said Poirot as she paused.
Mrs Tanios twisted her fingers nervously again as she answered:
"Well, that it would be mean to try and upset the will. I feel certain that it wasn't in any way Miss Lawson's doing – I'm sure she'd be quite incapable of scheming and intriguing -"
"Again, I agree with you, madame."
"And that's why I feel that to go to law would be – well, would be undignified and spiteful, and besides it would be very expensive, wouldn't it?"
"It would be expensive, yes."
"And probably useless, too. But you must speak to my husband about it. He's got a much better head for business than I have."
Poirot waited a minute or two, then he said:
"What reason do you think lay behind the making of that will?"
A quick colour rose in Mrs Tanios's cheeks as she murmured:
"I haven't the least idea."
"Madame, I have told you I am not a lawyer. But you have not asked me what my profession is."
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