Dumb Witness - Agatha Christie [64]
“And what about you? Would you do murder if it were made worth while?”
Charles laughed—a ringing, genuine laugh.
“Thinking about a spot of blackmail, M. Poirot? Nothing doing. I can assure you that I didn’t put—” he stopped suddenly and then went on—“strychnine in Aunt Emily’s soup.”
With a careless wave of his hand he departed.
“Were you trying to frighten him, Poirot?” I asked. “If so, I don’t think you succeeded. He showed no guilty reactions whatsoever.”
“No?”
“No. He seemed quite unruffled.”
“Curious that pause he made,” said Poirot.
“A pause?”
“Yes. A pause before the word strychnine. Almost as though he had been about to say something else and thought better of it.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“He was probably thinking of a good, venomous-sounding poison.”
“It is possible. It is possible. But let us set off. We will, I think, stay the night at the George in Market Basing.”
Ten minutes later saw us speeding through London, bound once more for the country.
We arrived in Harchester about four o’clock and made our way straight to the offices of Purvis, Purvis, Charlesworth and Purvis.
Mr. Purvis was a big solidly-built man with white hair and a rosy complexion. He had a little the look of a country squire. His manner was courteous but reserved.
He read the letter we had brought and then looked at us across the top of his desk. It was a shrewd look and a somewhat searching one.
“I know you by name, of course, M. Poirot,” he said politely. “Miss Arundell and her brother have, I gather, engaged your services in this matter, but exactly in what capacity you propose to be of use to them I am at a loss to imagine.”
“Shall we say, Mr. Purvis, a fuller investigation of all the circumstances?”
The lawyer said drily:
“Miss Arundell and her brother have already had my opinion as to the legal position. The circumstances were perfectly clear and admit of no misrepresentation.”
“Perfectly, perfectly,” said Poirot quickly. “But you will not, I am sure, object to just repeating them so that I can envisage the situation clearly.”
The lawyer bowed his head.
“I am at your service.”
Poirot began:
“Miss Arundell wrote to you giving you instructions on the seventeenth of April, I believe?”
Mr. Purvis consulted some papers on the table before him.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Can you tell me what she said?”
“She asked me to draw up a will. There were to be legacies to two servants and to three or four charities. The rest of her estate was to pass to Wilhelmina Lawson absolutely.”
“You will pardon me, Mr. Purvis, but you were surprised?”
“I will admit that—yes, I was surprised.”
“Miss Arundell had made a will previously?”
“Yes, she had made a will five years ago.”
“That will, after certain small legacies, left her property to her nephew and nieces?”
“The bulk of her estate was to be divided equally between the children of her brother Thomas and the daughter of Arabella Biggs, her sister.
“What has happened to that will?”
“At Miss Arundell’s request I brought it with me when I visited her at Littlegreen House on April 21st.”
“I should be much obliged to you, Mr. Purvis, if you would give me a full description of everything that occurred on that occasion.”
The lawyer paused for a minute or two. Then he said, very precisely:
“I arrived at Littlegreen House at three o’clock in the afternoon. One of my clerks accompanied me. Miss Arundell received me in the drawing room.”
“How did she look to you?”
“She seemed to me in good health in spite of the fact that she was walking with a stick. That, I understand, was on account of a fall she had had recently. Her general health, as I say, seemed good. She struck me as slightly nervous and overexcited in manner.”
“Was Miss Lawson with her?”
“She was with her when I arrived. But she left us immediately.”
“And then?”
“Miss Arundell asked me if I had done what she had asked me to do, and if I had brought the new will with me for her to sign.
“I said I had done so. I—er—” he hesitated for a minute or two, then went on stiffly.