Dumb Witness - Agatha Christie [51]
“Yes.”
“Although there was no particular evidence to show who actually took the money?”
“Oh, but it must have been Charles! Mrs. Tanios wouldn’t do such a thing, and her husband was quite a stranger and wouldn’t have known where the money was kept—neither of them would. And I don’t think Theresa Arundell would dream of such a thing. She’s got plenty of money and always so beautifully dressed.”
“It might have been one of the servants,” Poirot suggested.
Miss Lawson seemed horrified by the idea.
“Oh, no, indeed, neither Ellen nor Annie would have dreamed of such a thing. They are both most superior women and absolutely honest I am sure.”
Poirot waited a minute or two. Then he said:
“I wonder if you can give me any idea—I am sure you can, for if anyone possessed Miss Arundell’s confidence you did—”
Miss Lawson murmured confusedly:
“Oh, I don’t know about that, I’m sure—” but she was clearly flattered.
“I feel that you will be able to help me.”
“Oh, I’m sure, if I can—anything I can do—”
Poirot went on:
“This is in confidence—”
A sort of owlish expression appeared on Miss Lawson’s face. The magical words “in confidence” seemed to be a kind of Open Sesame.
“Have you any idea of the reason which caused Miss Arundell to alter her will?”
“Her will? Oh—her will?”
Miss Lawson seemed slightly taken aback.
Poirot said, watching her closely:
“It is true, is it not, that she made a new will shortly before her death, leaving all her fortune to you?”
“Yes, but I knew nothing about it. Nothing at all!” Miss Lawson was shrill in protest. “It was the greatest surprise to me! A wonderful surprise, of course! So good of dear Miss Arundell. And she never even gave me a hint. Not the smallest hint! I was so taken aback when Mr. Purvis read it out, I didn’t know where to look, or whether to laugh or cry! I assure you, M. Poirot, the shock of it—the shock, you know. The kindness—the wonderful kindness of dear Miss Arundell. Of course, I’d hoped perhaps, for just a little something—perhaps just a teeny, teeny legacy—though of course, there was no reason she should have left me even that. I’d not been with her so very long. But this—it was like—it was like a fairy story! Even now I can’t quite believe in it, if you know what I mean. And sometimes—well sometimes—I don’t feel altogether comfortable about it. I mean—well, I mean—”
She knocked off her pince-nez, picked them up, fumbled with them and went on even more incoherently.
“Sometimes I feel that—well, flesh and blood is flesh and blood after all, and I don’t feel quite comfortable at Miss Arundell’s leaving all her money away from her family. I mean, it doesn’t seem right, does it? Not all of it. Such a large fortune, too! Nobody had any idea! But—well—it does make one feel uncomfortable—and everyone saying things, you know—and I’m sure I’ve never been an ill-natured woman! I mean I wouldn’t have dreamed of influencing Miss Arundell in any way! And it’s not as though I could, either. Truth to tell, I was always just a teeny weeny bit afraid of her! She was so sharp, you know, so inclined to jump on you. And quite rude sometimes! ‘Don’t be a downright fool,’ she’d snap. And really, after all, I had my feelings and sometimes I’d feel quite upset… And then to find out that all the time she’d really been fond of me—well, it was very wonderful, wasn’t it? Only of course, as I say, there’s been a lot of unkindness, and really in some ways one feels—I mean, well, it does seem a little hard, doesn’t it, on some people?”
“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