Dumb Witness - Agatha Christie [54]
“Which was?” asked Poirot, watching her.
“Money!” snapped Miss Lawson. “And they didn’t get it.”
“No?” said Poirot.
“And I believe that’s what Dr. Tanios was after too,” she went on.
“Dr. Tanios. He was not down that same weekend, was he?”
“Yes, he came down on the Sunday. He only stayed about an hour.”
“Everyone seems to have been after poor Miss Arundell’s money,” hazarded Poirot.
“I know, it is not very nice to think of, is it?”
“No, indeed,” said Poirot. “It must have been a shock to Charles and Theresa Arundell that weekend when they learned that Miss Arundell had definitely disinherited them!”
Miss Lawson stared at him.
Poirot said:
“Is that not so? Did she not specifically inform them of the fact?”
“As to that, I couldn’t say. I didn’t hear anything about it! There wasn’t any fuss, or anything, as far as I know. Both Charles and his sister seemed to go away quite cheerful.”
“Ah! possibly I have been misinformed. Miss Arundell actually kept her will in the house, did she not?”
Miss Lawson dropped her pince-nez and stooped to pick them up.
“I really couldn’t say. No, I think it was with Mr. Purvis.”
“Who was the executor?”
“Mr. Purvis was.”
“After the death did he come over and look through her papers?”
“Yes, he did.”
Poirot looked at her keenly and asked her an unexpected question.
“Do you like Mr. Purvis?”
Miss Lawson was flustered.
“Like Mr. Purvis? Well, really, that’s difficult to say, isn’t it? I mean, I’m sure he’s a very clever man—that is a clever lawyer, I mean. But rather a brusque manner! I mean, it’s not very pleasant always, to have someone speaking to you as though—well, really I can’t explain what I mean—he was quite civil and yet at the same time, almost rude if you know what I mean.”
“A difficult situation for you,” said Poirot, sympathetically.
“Yes, indeed it was.”
Miss Lawson sighed and shook her head.
Poirot rose to his feet.
“Thank you very much, mademoiselle, for all your kindness and help.”
Miss Lawson rose too. She sounded slightly flustered.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to thank me for—nothing at all! So glad if I’ve been able to do anything—if there’s anything more I can do—”
Poirot came back from the door. He lowered his voice.
“I think, Miss Lawson, that there is something you ought to be told. Charles and Theresa Arundell are hoping to upset this will.”
A sharp flush of colour came into Miss Lawson’s cheeks.
“They can’t do that,” she said, sharply. “My lawyer says so.”
“Ah,” said Poirot. “You have consulted a lawyer, then?”
“Certainly. Why shouldn’t I?”
“No reason at all. A very wise proceeding. Good day to you, mademoiselle.”
When we emerged from Clanroyden Mansions into the street Poirot drew a deep breath.
“Hastings, mon ami, that woman is either exactly what she seems or else she is a very good actress.”
“She doesn’t believe Miss Arundell’s death was anything but natural. You can see that,” I said.
Poirot did not answer. There are moments when he is conveniently deaf. He hailed a taxi.
“Durham Hotel, Bloomsbury,” he told the driver.
Sixteen
MRS. TANIOS
“Gentleman to see you, madame.”
The woman who was sitting writing at one of the tables in the writing room of the Durham Hotel turned her head and then rose, coming towards us uncertainly.
Mrs. Tanios might have been any age over thirty. She was a tall, thin woman with dark hair, rather prominent light “boiled gooseberry” eyes and a worried face. A fashionable hat was perched on her head at an unfashionable angle and she wore a rather depressed-looking cotton frock.
“I don’t think—” she began vaguely.
Poirot bowed.
“I have just come from your cousin, Miss Theresa Arundell.”
“Oh! from Theresa? Yes?”
“Perhaps I could have a few minutes’ private conversation?”
Mrs. Tanios looked about her rather vacantly. Poirot suggested a leather sofa at the far end of the room.
As we made our way there a high voice squeaked out:
“Mother, where are you going?”
“I shall be just over there. Go on with your letter, darling.”
The child, a thin, peaky-looking