Cards On The Table Part 32

all along the line there. And yet there must be something! Shaitana thought there was.

He sighed in a dispirited manner.

"Then there's Miss Meredith. I've got her history taped out quite clearly.

Usual sort of story. Army officer's daughter. Left with very little 'money. Had to earn her living. Not properly trained for anything. I've checked up on her early days at Cheltenham. All quite straightforward. Every one very sorry for the poor little thing. She went first to some people in the Isle of Wight kind of nursery-governess and mother's help. The woman she was with is out in Palestine but I've talked with her sister and she says Mrs. Eldon liked the girl very much. Certainly no mysterious deaths nor anything of that kind.

"When Mrs. Eldon went abroad, Miss Meredith went to Devonshire and took a post as companion to an aunt of a school friend. The school friend is the girl she is living with now--Miss Rhoda Dawes. She was there over two years until Miss Dawes got too ill and had to have a regular trained nurse. Cancer, I gather. She's alive still, but very vague. Kept under morphia a good deal, I imagine. I had an interview with her. She remembered 'Anne,' said she was a nice child. I also talked to a neighbour of hers who would be better able to remember the happenings of the last few years. No deaths in the parish except one or two of the older villagers, with whom, as far as I can make out, Anne Meredith never came into contact.

"Since then there's been Switzerland. Thought I might get on the track of some fatal accident there, but nothing doing. And there's nothing in Wallingford either."

"So Anne Meredith is acquitted?" asked Poirot.

Battle hesitated.

"I wouldn't say that. There's something .... There's a scared look about her that can't quite be accounted for by panic over Shaitana. She's too watchful. Too much on the alert. I'd swear there was something. But there it is--she's led a perfectly blameless life."

Mrs. Oliver took a deep breath--a breath of pure enjoyment.

"And yet," she said, "Anne Meredith was in the house when a woman took poison by mistake and died."

She had nothing to complain of in the effect her words produced.

Superintendent Battle spun round in his chair and stared at her in amazement.

"Is this true, Mrs. Oliver? How do you know?"

"I've been sleuthing," said Mrs. Oliver. "I get on with girls. I went down to see those two and told them a c.o.c.k-and-bull story about suspecting Dr. Roberts.

The Rhoda girl was friendly---oh, and rather impressed by thinking I was a celebrity. The little Meredith hated my coming and showed it quite plainly. She was suspicious. Why should she be if she hadn't got anything to hide? I asked either of them to come and see me in London. The Rhoda girl did. And she blurted the whole thing out. How Anne had been rude to me the other day because something I'd said had reminded her of a painful incident, and then she went on to describe the incident."

"Did she say when and where it happened?"

"Three years ago in Devonshire."

The superintendent muttered something under his breath and scribbled on his pad. His wooden calm was shaken.

Mrs. Oliver sat enjoying her triumph. It was a moment of great sweetness to her.

458

Battle recovered his temper.

"I take off my hat to you, Mrs. Oliver," he said. "You've put one over on us this time. That is very valuable information. And it just shows how easily you can miss a thing."

He frowned a little.

"She can't have been therewherever it was--long. A couple of months at most. It must have been between the Isle of Wight and going to Miss Dawes. Yes, that could be it right enough. Naturally Mrs. Eldon's sister only remembers she went off to a place in Devonshirc she doesn't remember exactly who or where."

"Tell me," said Poirot, "was this Mrs. Eldon an untidy woman?"

Battle bent a curious gaze upon him.

"It's odd your saying that, M. Poirot. I don't see how you could have known.

The sister was rather a precise party. In talking I remember her saying 'My sister is so dreadfully untidy and slapdash.' But how did you know?"

"Because she needed a mother's-help," said Mrs. Oliver.

Poirot shook his head.

"No, no, it was not that. It is of no moment. I was only curious. Continue, Superintendent Battle."

"In the same way," went on Battle, "I took it for granted that she went to Miss Dawes straight from the Isle of Wight. She's sly, that girl. She deceived me all right. Lying the whole time."

"Lying is not always a sign of guilt," said Poirot. "I know that, M. Poirot. There's the natural liar. I should say she was one, as a matter of fact. Always says the thing that sounds best. But all the same it's a pretty grave risk to take, suppressing facts like that."

"She wouldn't know you had any idea of past crimes," said Mrs. Oliver.

"That's all the more reason for not suppressing that little piece of information.

It must have been accepted as a bona ride case of accidental death, so she'd nothing to fear-unless she were guilty."

"Unless she were guilty of the Devonshire death, yes," said Poirot.

Battle turned to him.

"Oh, I know. Even if that accidental death turns out to be not so accidental, it doesn't follow that she killed Shaitana. But these other murders are murders too. I want to be able to bring home a crime to the person responsible for it."

"According to Mr. Shaitana, that is impossible," remarked Poirot.

"It is in Roberts' case. It remains to be seen if it is in Miss Meredith's. I shall go down to Devon tomorrow."

"Will you know where to go?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "I didn't like to ask Rhoda for more details."

"No, that was wise of you. I shan't have much difficulty. There must have been an inquest. I shall find it in the coroner's records. That's routine police work.

They'll have it all taped out for me by to-morrow morning."

"What about Major Despard?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "Have you found out anything about him?"

'"I've been waiting for Colonel Race's report. I've had him shadowed, of course. One rather interesting thing, he went down to see Miss Meredith at Wallingford. You remember he said he'd never met her until the other night."

"But she is a very pretty girl," murmured Poirot. Battle laughed.

"Yes, I expect that's all there is to it. By the way, Despard's taking no chances.

He's already consulted a solicitor. That looks as though he's expecting trouble."

"He is a man who looks ahead," said Poirot. "He is a man who prepared for every contingency."

"And therefore not the kind of man to stick a knife into a man in a hurry," said Battle with a sigh.

"Not unless it was the only way," said Poirot. "He can act quickly, remember."

Battle looked across the table at him.

"Now, M. Poirot, what about your cards? Haven't seen your hand down on the table yet."

Poirot smiled.

"There is so little in it. You think I conceal facts from you? It is not so. I have not learned many facts. I have talked with Dr. Roberts, with Mrs. Lorrimer, with Major Despard (I have still to talk to Miss Meredith) and what have I learnt? Thisl That Dr. Roberts is a keen observer, that Mrs. Lorrimer on the other hand has a most remarkable power of concentration but is, in consequence, almost blind to her surroundings. But she is fond of flowers. Despard notices only those things which appeal to him--rugs, trophies of sport. He has neither what I call the outward vision (seeing details all around you what is called an observant person) nor the inner vision--concentration, the focusing of the mind on one object. He has a purposefully limited vision. He sees only what blends and harmonises with the bent of his mind."

"So those are what you call facts---eh?" said Battle curiously.

"They are facts. Very small fry--perhaps."

"What about Miss Meredith?"

"I have left her to the end. But I shall question her too as to What she remembers in that room."

"It's an odd method of approach," said Battle thoughtfully. "Purely psychological.

Suppose they're leading you up the garden path?"

Poirot shook his head with a smile.

"No, that would be impossible. Whether they try to hinder or to help, they necessarily reveal their type of mind."

"There's something in it, no doubt," said Battle thoughtfully. "I couldn't work that way myself, though."

Poirot said, still smiling: "I feel I have done very little in comparison with you and with Mrs. Oliver-- and with Colonel Race. My cards, that I place on the table, are very low ones."

Battle twinkled at him.

"As to that, M. Poirot, the two of trumps is a low card, but it can take any one of three aces. All the same, I'm going to ask you to do a practical job of work." "And that is?"

"I want you to interview Professor Luxmore's widow."

"And why do you not do that yourself?."

"Because, as I said just now, I'm off to Devonshire."

"Why do you not do that yourself?." repeated Poirot. "Won't be put off, will you? Well, I'll speak the truth. I think you'll get more out of her than I shall."

"My methods being less straightforward?"

"You can put it that way if you like," said Battle, grinning. "I've heard Inspector j.a.pp say that you've got a tortuous mind."

"Like the late Mr. Shaitana?"

"You think he would have been able to get things out of her?"

460

Poirot said slowly: "I rather think he did get things out of her!" "What makes you think so?" asked Battle sharply. "A chance remark of Major Despard's."

"Gave himself away, did he? That sounds unlike him.'

"Oh, my dear friend, it is impossible not to give oneself away--unless one never opens one's mouth! Speech is the deadliest of revealers."

"Even if people tell lies?" asked Mrs. Oliver.

"Yes, madame, because it can be seen at once that you tell a certain kind of "You make me feel quite uncomfortable," said Mrs. Oliver, getting up.

Superintendent Battle accompanied her to the door and shook her warmly by the hand.

"You've been the goods, Mrs. Oliver," he said. "You're a much better detective than that long lanky Laplander of yours."

"Finn," corrected Mrs. Oliver. "Of course he's idiotic. But people like him. Goodbye."

"I, too, must depart," said Poirot.

Battle scribbled an address on a piece of paper and shoved it into Poirot's hand.

"There you are. Go and tackle her."

Poirot smiled.

"And what do you want me to find out?"