Cards on the Table - Agatha Christie [62]
‘Well?’ said Battle.
‘Well, it is significant, that. Suppose we knew nothing about this girl. Her word would give us a clue to her character. She notices flowers. She is, then, fond of flowers? No, since she does not mention a very big bowl of early tulips which would at once have attracted the attention of a flower lover. No, it is the paid companion who speaks—the girl whose duty it has been to put fresh water in the vases—and, allied to that, there is a girl who loves and notices jewellery. Is not that, at least, suggestive?’
‘Ah,’ said Battle. ‘I’m beginning to see what you’re driving at.’
‘Precisely. As I told you the other day, I place my cards on the table. When you recounted her history the other day, and Mrs Oliver made her startling announcement, my mind went at once to an important point. The murder could not have been committed for gain, since Miss Meredith had still to earn her living after it happened. Why, then? I considered Miss Meredith’s temperament as it appeared superficially. A rather timid young girl, poor, but well-dressed, fond of pretty things…The temperament, is it not, of a thief, rather than a murderer. And I asked immediately if Mrs Eldon had been a tidy woman. You replied that no, she had not been tidy. I formed a hypothesis. Supposing that Anne Meredith was a girl with a weak streak in her character—the kind of girl who takes little things from the big shops. Supposing that, poor, and yet loving pretty things, she helped herself once or twice to things from her employer. A brooch, perhaps, an odd half-crown or two, a string of beads. Mrs Eldon, careless, untidy, would put down these disappearances to her own carelessness. She would not suspect her gentle little mother’s-help. But, now, suppose a different type of employer—an employer who did notice—accused Anne Meredith of theft. That would be a possible motive for murder. As I said the other evening, Miss Meredith would only commit a murder through fear. She knows that her employer will be able to prove the theft. There is only one thing that can save her: her employer must die. And so she changes the bottles, and Mrs Benson dies—ironically enough convinced that the mistake is her own, and not suspecting for a minute that the cowed, frightened girl has had a hand in it.’
‘It’s possible,’ said Superintendent Battle. ‘It’s only a hypothesis, but it’s possible.’
‘It is a little more than possible, my friend—it is also probable. For this afternoon I laid a little trap nicely baited—the real trap—after the sham one had been circumvented. If what I suspect is true, Anne Meredith will never, never be able to resist a really expensive pair of stockings! I ask her to aid me. I let her know carefully that I am not sure exactly how many stockings there are, I go out of the room, leaving her alone—and the result, my friend, is that I have now seventeen pairs of stockings, instead of nineteen, and that two pairs have gone away in Anne Meredith’s handbag.’
‘Whew!’ Superintendent Battle whistled. ‘What a risk to take, though.’
‘Pas du tout. What does she think I suspect her of? Murder. What is the risk, then, in stealing a pair, or two pairs, of silk stockings? I am not looking for a thief. And, besides, the thief, or the kleptomaniac, is always the same—convinced that she can get away with it.’
Battle nodded his head.
‘That’s true enough. Incredibly stupid. The pitcher goes to the well time after time. Well, I think between us we’ve arrived fairly clearly at the truth. Anne Meredith was caught stealing. Anne Meredith changed a bottle from one shelf to another.