Poirot Loses A Client Part 17

"Oh, of course--of course. I shouldn't dream of doing anything else...." The last we saw of Miss Lawson was her rather sheeplike face gazing after us from the front door step.

XXIII Dr. Tan/os Ca//s on UsNo sooner had we left the house than Poirot's manner changed. His face was grim and set.

"Depechons-nous, Hastings," he said. "We must get back to London as soon as possible."

"I'm willing." I quickened my pace to suit his. I stole a look at his grave face.

"Who do you suspect, Poirot?" I asked.

"I wish you'd tell me. Do you believe it was Theresa Arundell on the stairs or not?" Poirot did not reply to my question. Instead he asked a question of his own.

"Did it strike you--reflect before you answer--did it strike you that there was something wrong with that statement of Miss Lawson's?" "How do you mean--wrong with it?" "If I knew that I should not be asking you!" "Yes, but wrong in what way?" "That is just it. I cannot be precise.

But as she was talking I had, somehow, a feeling of unreality... as though there was something--some small point that was wrong --that was, yes, that was the feeling--something that was impossible...." "She seemed quite positive it was Theresa!" "Yes, yes." "But after all, the light couldn't have been very good. I don't see how she can be quite so sure." "No, no, Hastings, you are not helping me. It was some small point--something connected with--yes, I am sure of it--with the bedroom." "With the bedroom?" I repeated, trying to recall the details of the room. "No," I said at last. "I can't help you." Poirot shook his head vexedly.

"Why did you bring up that spiritualistic business again?" I asked.

"Because it is important." "What is important? Aliss Lawson's luminous 'ribbon development'?"

"You remember the Misses Tripp's description of the seance?" "I know they saw a halo round the old lady's head." I laughed in spite of myself. "/ shouldn't think she was a saint by all accounts!

Miss Lawson seems to have been terrified by her. I felt quite sorry for the poor woman when she described how she lay awake, worried to death because she might get into trouble over ordering too small a sirloin of beef." "Yes, it was an interesting touch that." "What are we going to do when we get to London?" I asked as we turned into The George and Poirot asked for the bill.

"We must go and see Theresa Arundell immediately." "And find out the truth? But won't she deny the whole thing anyway?" "Mon cher, it is not a criminal offence to kneel upon a flight of stairs!

She may have been picking up a pin to bring her luck-- something of that sort!" "And the smell of varnish?" We could say no more just then, as the waiter arrived with the bill.

On the way to London we talked very little. I am not fond of talking and driving? and Poirot was so busy protecting his moustaches with his m.u.f.fler from the disastrous effects of wind and dust that speech was quite beyond him. j We arrived at the flat at about twenty to two.

George, Poirot's immaculate and extremely English manservant, opened the door.

"A Dr. Tanios is waiting to see you, sir.

He has been here for half an hour." "Dr. Tanios? Where is he?" "In the sitting-room, sir. A lady also called to see you, sir. She seemed very distressed to find you were absent from home. It was before I received your telephone message, sir, so I could not tell her when you would be returningto London." "Describe this lady." "She was about five foot seven, sir, with dark hair and light blue eyes. She was wearing a grey coat and skirt and a hat worn very much to the back of the head instead of over the right eye." "Mrs. Tanios," I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in a low voice.

"She seemed in a condition of great nervous excitement, sir. Said it was of the utniost importance she should find you quickly." "What time was this?" "About half-past ten, sir." Poirot shook his head as he pa.s.sed on towards the sitting-room.

"That is the second time I have missed hearing what Mrs. Tanios has to say. Whai would you say, Hastings? Is there a fate in it?" "Third time lucky," I said consolingly.

Poirot shook his head doubtfully.

"Will there be a third time? I wonder.

Come, let us hear what the husband has to say." Dr. Tanios was sitting in an armchair reading one of Poirot5 s books on psychology.

He sprang up and greeted us.

"You must forgive this intrusion. I hope you don't mind my forcing my way in and waiting for you like this." "Du tout, du tout. Pray sit down. Permit me to offer you a gla.s.s of sherry." "Thank you. As a matter of fact, I have an excuse. M. Poirot, I am worried, terribly worried, about my wife." "About your wife? I'm very sorry. What's the matter?" Tanios said: "You have seen her perhaps, lately?" It seemed quite a natural question, but the quick look that accompanied it was not so natural.

Poirot replied in the most matter-of-fact manner.

"No, not since I saw her at the hotel with you yesterday." "Ah--I thought perhaps she might have called upon you." Poirot was busy pouring out three gla.s.ses of sherry.

He said in a slightly abstracted voice: "No. Was there any--reason for her calling on me?" "No, no." Dr. Tanios accepted his sherry.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. No, there was no exact reason, but, to be frank, I am very much concerned about my wife's state of health." "Ah, she is not strong?" "Her bodily health,"

said Tanios slowly, "is good. I wish I could say the same for her mind." "Ah?" "I fear, M. Poirot, that she is on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown." "My dear Dr. Tanios, I am extremely sorry to hear this." "This condition has been growing for some time. During the last two months her manner towards me has completely changed.

She is nervous, easily startled, and she has ^e oddest fancies--actually they are more ^an fancies--they are delusions!" II "Really?" "Yes. She is suffering from what is commonly known as persecution mania--a fairly well-known condition.? 5 Poirot made a sympathetic noise with his tongue.

"You can understand my anxiety!" "Naturally. Naturally. But what I do not quite understand is why you have come to me. How can I help you?" Dr. Tanios seemed a little embarra.s.sed.

"It occurred to me that my wife might have--or may yet--come to you with some extraordinarytale. She may conceivably say that she is in danger from me--something of that kind." "But why should she come to me?" Dr. Tanios smiled--it was a charming smile--genial yet wistful.

"You are a celebrated detective, M.

Poirot. I saw--I could see at once--that my wife was very impressed at meeting you yesterday.

The mere fact of meeting a detective would make a powerful impression on her in her present state. It seems to me highly probable that she might seek you out and-- and--well, confide in you.

That is the way these nervous affections go! There is a tendency to turn against those nearest and dearest to you.". "Very distressing." ('Yes, indeed. I am very fond of my wife.?' There was a rich tenderness in his voice. "I always feel it was so brave of her to marry me--a man of another race--to come out to a far country--to leave all her own friends and surroundings. For the last few days I have been really distraught.... I can see only one thing for it...." "Yes?" "Perfect rest and quiet--and suitable psychological treatment. There is a splendid home I know of run by a first-cla.s.s man. I want to take her down there--it is in Norfolk--straightaway. Perfect rest and isolation from outside influence--that is what is needed. I feel convinced that once she has been there a month or two under skilled treatment there will be a change for the better."

"I see," said Poirot.

He uttered the words in a matter-of-fact manner without any clue to the feelings that prompted him.

Tanios again shot a quick glance at him.

"That is why 5 if she should come to you, I should be obliged if you will let me know at once."

"But certainly. I will telephone you. You are at the Durham Hotel still?" "Yes. I am going back there now." "And your wife is not there?" "She went out directly after breakfast." "Without telling you where she was going?" "Without saying a word. That is most unlike her." "And the children?" "She took them with her." "I see." Tanios got up.

"Thank you so much, M. Poirot. I need hardly say that if she does tell you any high-flown stories of intimidation and persecution, pay no attention to them. It is, unfortunately, a part of her malady." "Most distressing," said Poirot with sympathy.

"It is indeed. Although one knows, medically speaking, that it is part of a recognized mental disease, yet one cannot help being hurt when a person very near and dear to you turns against you and all their affection changes to dislike." "You have my deepest sympathy," said poirot as he shook hands with his guest.

? "By the way--" Poirot's voice recalled Tanios just as he was at the door.

"Yes?" "Do you ever prescribe chloral for your dfe?" Tanios gave a startled movement.

"I--no--at least I may have done. But not lately. She seems to have taken an aversion to any form of sleeping draught." "Ah! I suppose because she does not trust you?" "M. Poirot!" Tanios came striding forward angrily.

"That would be part of the disease," said Poirot smoothly.Tanios stopped.

"Yes, yes, of course." "She is probably highly suspicious of anything you give her to eat or drink.

Probably suspects you of wanting to poison her?" , "Dear me, M. Poirot, you are quite right.

pou know something of such cases, then?" I "One comes across them now and then in my profession, naturally. But do not let me detain you. You may find her waiting for you at the hotel."

"True. I hope I shall. I feel terribly anxious." He hurried out of the room.

Poirot went swiftly to the telephone. He flicked over the pages of the telephone directory and asked for a number.

" 'Allo--'allo--is that the Durham Hotel?

Can you tell me if Mrs. Tanios is in? What?

t-a-n-i-o-s. Yes, that is right. Yes? Yes? Oh, I see." He replaced the receiver.

"Mrs. Tanios left the hotel this morning early. She returned at eleven, waited in the taxi whilst her luggage was brought down and drove away with it." "Does Tanios know she took away her luggage?" "I think not as yet." "Where has she gone?" "Impossible to tell." "Do you think she will come back here?" "Possibly. I cannot tell." "Perhaps she will write." "Perhaps." "What can we do?" Poirot shook his head. He looked worried and distressed.

"Nothing at the moment. A hasty lunch and then we will go and see Theresa Arun- dell." "Do you believe it was her on the stairs?" "Impossible to tell. One thing I made sure of-Miss Lawson could not have seen her face. She saw a tall figure in a dark dressing gown, that is all." "And the brooch?" "My dear friend, a brooch is not part of a person's anatomy! It can be detached from that person. It can be lost-or borrowed- or even stolen." "In other words, you don't want to believe Theresa Arundell guilty?" "I want to hear what she has to say on the matter." "And if Mrs. Tanios comes back?" "I will arrange for that." George brought in an omelette.

"Listen, George," said Poirot. "If that lady comes back, you will ask her to wait.

If Dr. Tanios comes while she is here, on no account let him in. If he asks if his wife is here, you will tell him she is not. You understand?" "Perfectly, sir." Poirot attacked the omelette.

"This business complicates itself," he said. "We must step very carefully. If not -the murderer will strike again." "If he did you might get him." "Quite possibly, but I prefer the life of the innocent to the conviction of the guilty.

We must go very, very carefully."

XXIV Theresa's Denial we found Theresa Arundell just preparing to go out.

She was looking extraordinarily attractive.

A small hat of the most outrageous fashion descended rakishly over one eye. I recognized with momentary amus.e.m.e.nt that Bella Tanios had worn a cheap imitation of such a hat yesterday andhad worn it--as George had put it--on the back of the head instead of over the right eye. I remembered well how she had pushed it further and further back on her untidy hair.

Poirot said politely: "Can I have just a minute or two, mademoiselle, or will it delay you too much?" Theresa laughed.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm always three quarters of an hour late for everything. I might just as well make it an hour." She led him into the sitting-room. To my surprise Dr. Donaldson rose from a chair by the window.

"You've met M. Poirot already. Rex, haven't you?" "We met at Market Basing," said Donaldson stiffly.

"You were pretending to write the life of my drunken grandfather, I understand," said Theresa.

"Rex, my angel, will you leave us?" "Thank you, Theresa, but I think that from every point of view it would be advisable for me to be present at this interview." There was a brief duel of eyes.

Theresa's were commanding. Donaldson's were impervious.

She showed a quick flash of anger.

"All right, stay then, d.a.m.n you!" Dr. Donaldson seemed unperturbed.

He seated himself again in the chair by the window, laying down his book on the arm of it. It was a book on the pituitary gland, I noticed.

Theresa sat down on her favourite low stool and looked impatiently at Poirot.

"Well, you've seen Purvis? What about it?

Poirot said in a non-committal voice: "There are--possibilities, mademoiselle.

She looked at him thoughtfully. Then she sent a very faint glance in the direction of the doctor. It was, I think, intended as a warning to Poirot.

"But it would be well, I think," went on Poirot, "for me to report later when my plans are more advanced." A faint smile showed for a minute on Theresa's face.

Poirot continued: "I have to-day come from Market Basing and while there I have talked to Miss Lawson.

Tell me, mademoiselle, did you on the night of April 13th (that was the night of the Easter Bank Holiday) kneel upon the stairs after every one had gone to bed?" "My dear Hercule Poirot, what an extraordinary question. Why should I?" "The question, mademoiselle, is not why you should, but whether you did." "I'm sure I don't know. I should think it most unlikely." "You comprehend, mademoiselle. Miss Lawson says you did." Theresa shrugged her attractive shoulders.

"Does it matter?" "It matters very much." She stared at him in a perfectly amiable fashion.

Poirot stared back.

"Loopy!" said Theresa."Pardon?" "Definitely loopy!" said Theresa. "Don't you think so. Rex?" Dr. Donaldson coughed.

"Excuse me, M. Poirot, but what is the point of the question?" My friend spread out his hands.

"It is most simple! Some one drove in a nail in a convenient position at the head of the stairs. The nail was just touched with brown varnish to match the skirting-board." "Is this a new kind of witchcraft?" asked Theresa.

"No, mademoiselle, it is much more homely and simple than that. On the following evening, the Tuesday, some one attached a string or thread from the nail to the bal.u.s.ters with the result that when Miss Arundell came out of her room she caught her foot in it and went headlong down the stairs." Theresa drew in her breath sharply.

"That was Bob's ball!" "Pardon, it was not." There was a pause. It was broken by Donaldson, who said in his quiet, precise voice: iJ "Excuse me, but what evidence have you in support of this statement?" Poirot said quietly: "The evidence of the nail, the evidence of Miss Arundell's own written words, and finally the evidence of Miss Lawson's eyes." Theresa found her voice.

"She says I did it, does she?" Poirot did not answer except by bending his head a little.

"Well, it's a lie! I had nothing to do with it!" "You were kneeling on the stairs for quite another reason?" "I wasn't kneeling on the stairs at all!" "Be careful, mademoiselle." "I wasn't there! I never came out of my room after I went to bed on any evening I was there." "Miss Lawson recognized you." "It was probably Bella Tanios or one of the maids she saw." "She says it was you." "She's a d.a.m.ned liar!" "She recognized your dressing gown and a brooch you wear." "A brooch--what brooch?" "A brooch with your initials." "Oh, I know the one! What a circ.u.mstantial liar she is!" "You still deny that it was you she saw?" "If it's my word against hers--" "You are a better liar than she is--eh?" Theresa said calmly: "That's probably quite true. But in this case I'm speaking the truth. I wasn't preparing a b.o.o.by trap, or saying my prayers, or picking up gold or silver, or doing anything at all on the stairs." "Have you this brooch that was mentioned?"

"Probably. Do you want to see it?" "If you please, mademoiselle." Theresa got up and left the room. There was an awkward silence. Dr. Donaldson looked at Poirot much as I imagined he might have looked at an anatomical specimen.

Theresa returned.

"Here it is." She almost flung the ornament at Poirot.

It was a large rather showy chromium or stainless steel brooch with T.A. enclosed in a circle. I had to admit that it was large enough and showy enough to be easily seen in Miss Lawson's mirror.

"I never wear it now. I'm tired of it," saidj Theresa. "London's been flooded with them. Every little skivvy wears one." "But it was expensive when you bought it?" "Oh, yes. They were quite exclusive to begin with." "When was that?" "Last Christmas, I think it was. Yes, about then."

"Have you ever lent it to any one?" "No." "You had it with you at Littlegreen House?" "I suppose I did. Yes, I did. I remember." "Did you leave it about at all? Was it out of your possession while you were there?" "No, it wasn't. I wore it on a green jumper, I remember. And I wore the same jumper every day." "And at night?" "It was still in the jumper." "And the jumper?" "Oh, h.e.l.l, the jumper was sitting on a chair." "You are sure no one removed the brooch and put it back againthe next day?" "We'll say so in court if you like-if you ink that's the best lie to tell! Actually I'm ite sure that nothing like that happened!

It's a pretty idea that somebody framed me --but I don't think it's true." Poirot frowned. Then he got up, attached the brooch carefully to his coat lapel and approached a mirror on a table at the other end of the room. He stood in front of it and then moved slowly backward 5 getting an effect of distance.

Then he uttered a grunt.

"Imbecile that I am! Of course!" He came back and handed the brooch to Theresa with a bow.

"You are quite right, mademoiselle. The brooch did not leave your possession! I have been regrettably dense." "I do like modesty," said Theresa, pinning the brooch on carelessly.