After The Funeral Part 20

"Yes, it's difficult. But Poirot is a man of great originality and he has something really approaching genius. He understands perfectly what we need--a.s.surance that the whole thing is a mare's nest."

"And suppose it isn't ?"

"What makes you say that ?" asked Mr. Entwhistle sharply.

"I don't know. I've been uneasy... Not just about what Cora said that day--something else. Something that I felt at the time to be wrong."

"Wrong ? In what way ?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"You mean it was something about one of the people in the room ?"

"Yes--yes--something of that kind. But I don't know who or what... Oh that sounds absurd.--"

"Not at all. It is interesting--very interesting. You are not a fool, Helen. If you noticed something, that something has significance."

"Yes, but I can't remember what it was. The more I think "

"Don't think. That is the wrong way to bring anything back. Let it go. Sooner or later it will flash into your mind.

And when it does-let me know--at once."

CHAPTER IX

Miss G.cImST pulled her black felt hat down firmly on her head and tucked in a wisp of grey hair. The inquest was set for twelve o'clock and it was not quite twenty-past eleven.

Her grey coat and skirt looked quite nice, she thought, and she had bought herself a black blouse. She wished she could have been all in black, but that would have been far beyond her means. She looked round the small neat bedroom and at the walls hung with representations of Brixham harbour, c.o.c.kington Forge, Anstey's Cove, Kyance Cove, Polflexan harbour, Babbacombe Bay, etc., all signed in a dashing way, Cora Lansquenet. Her eyes rested with particular fondness on Polflexan harbour. On the chest of drawers a faded

otograph carefully framed represented the Willow Teashop.

iss Gilchrist looked at it lovingly and sighed.

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She was disturbed from her reverie by the sound of the door bell below.

"Dear me," murmured Miss Gilchrist," I wonder who-"

She went out of her room and down the rather rickety stairs. The bell sounded again and there was a sharp knock.

For some reason Miss Gilchrist felt nervous. For a moment or two her steps slowed up, then she went rather unwillingly to the door, adjuring herself not to be so silly.

A young woman dressed smartly in black and carrying a small suitcase was standing on the step. She noticed the alarmed look on Miss Gilchrist's face and said quickly: "Miss Gilchrist ? I am Mrs. Lansquenet's niece---Susan Banks." "Oh dea, yes, of course. I didn't know. Do come in, Mrs. Banks. Mind the hall-stand--it sticks out a little. In here, yes. I didn't know you were coming down for the inquest. I'd have had something readymsome coffee or something."

Susan Banks said briskly: "I don't want anything. I'm so sorry if I startled you."

"Well, you know you lid, in a way. It's very silly of me.

I'm not usually nervous. In fact I told the lawyer that I asn't nervous, and that I wouldn't be nervous staying on here alone, and really I'm not nervous. Only--perhaps it's just the inquest and and thinking of things, but I have been jumpy all this morning. Just about half an hour ago the bell rang and I could hardly bring myself to open the door--which was really very stupid and so unlikely that a murderer would come back--and why should he ?--and actually it was only a nun, collecting for an orphanage--and I was so relieved I gave her two shillings although I'm of a Roman Catholic and indeed have no sympathy with the Roman Church and all these monks and nuns though I believe the Little Sisters of the Poor do r, eally do good work. But do please sit down, Mrs.--Mrs ..

"Banks."

"Yes, of course, Banks. Did you come down by train ?"

"No, I drove down. The lane seemed so narrow I ran the car on a little way and found a sort of old quarry I backed it into."

"This lane is very narrow, but there's hardly ever any traffic along here. It's rather a lonely road."

Miss Gilchrist gave a little shiver as she said those last words.

Susan Banks was looking round the room.

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"Poor old Aunt Cora," she said. "She left what she had to me, you know."

"Yes, I know. Mr. Entwhistle told me. I expect you'll be glad of the furniture. You're newly married, I,understand, and furnishing is such an expense nowadays Mrs. Lansquenet had some very nice things."

Susan did not agree. Cora had had no taste for the antique.

The contents varied between "modernistic" pieces and the "arty" type.

"I shan't want any of the furniture," she said. "I've got my own, you know. I shall put it up for auction. Unless --is there any of it you would like ? I'd be very glad..."

She stopped, a little embarra.s.sed. But Miss Gilchrist was not at all embarra.s.sed. She beamed.

"Now really, that's vry kind of you, Mrs. Banks--yes, very kind indeed. I really do appreciate it. But actually, you know, I have my own things. I put them in store in case --some day--I should need them. There axe some pictures my father left too. I had a small tea-shop at one time, you know--but then the war came---it was all very unfortunate.

But I didn't sell up everything, because I did hope to have my own little home ag, am one day, so I put the best things in store with my father s pictures and some relics of our o1 home. But I would like very much, if you really wonldn t mind, to have that little painted tea table of dear Mrs.

Lansq,uenet's. Such a pretty thing and we always had tea on it.'

Susan, looking with a slight shudder at a small green table painted with large purple clematis, said quickly that she would be delighted for Miss Gilchrist to have it.

, "Thank you wry much, Mrs. Banks. I feel a little greedy.

Ive got all her beautiful pictures, you know, and a lovely amethyst brooch, but I feelthat perhaps I ought to give that back to you."

"No, no, indeed."

"You'll want to go through her things ? After the inquest, perhaps ?"

"I thought I'd stay here a couple of days, go through things, and clear everything up."

Sleep here, you mean.

"Yes. Is there any difficulty ?"

"Oh no, Mrs. Banks, of course not. I'll put fresh sheets on,,my bed, and I can cla.s.s down here on the couch quite wen."

But there's Aunt Cora's room, isn't there ? I can sleep m that? '

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"You--you wouldn't mind ?"

"You mean because she was murdered there ? Oh no, I

wouldn't mind. I'm very tou,g,h,, Miss Gilchrist. It's been

--I mean--it's all right again ?

Miss Gilchrist understood the question.

"Oh yes, Mrs. Banks. All the blankets sent away to the

cleaners and Mrs. Panter and I scrubbed the whole room out

thoroughly. And there are plenty of spare blankets. But

come up and see for yourself."

She led the way upstairs and Susan followed her.

The room where Cora Lansquenet had died was clean and

fresh and curiously devoid of any sinister atmosphere. Like

the sitting-room it contained a mixture of modern utility and

elaborately painted furniture. It represented Cora's cheerful

tasteless personality. Over the mantelpiece an oil painting showed a buxom young woman about to enter her bath.

Susan gave a slight shudder as she looked at it and Miss

Gilchrist said:

"That was painted by Mrs. Lansquenet's husband. There

are a lot of more of his pictures in the dining-room downstairs."