Dumb Witness - Agatha Christie [66]
“But Miss Arundell would not have had the legal knowledge to appreciate that point. She may have thought that by destroying the latter will, the earlier one would stand.”
“It is quite possible.”
“Actually, if she died intestate, her money would pass to her family?”
“Yes. One half to Mrs. Tanios, one half divisible between Charles and Theresa Arundell. But the fact remains, however, that she did not change her mind! She died with her decision unchanged.”
“But that,” said Poirot, “is where I come in.”
The lawyer looked at him inquiringly.
Poirot leaned forward.
“Supposing,” he said, “that Miss Arundell, on her deathbed, wished to destroy that will. Supposing that she believed that she had destroyed it—but that, in reality, she only destroyed the first will.”
Mr. Purvis shook his head.
“No, both wills were intact.”
“Then supposing she destroyed a dummy will—under the impression that she was destroying the genuine document. She was very ill, remember, it would be easy to deceive her.”
“You would have to bring evidence to that effect,” said the lawyer sharply.
“Oh! undoubtedly—undoubtedly….”
“Is there—may I ask—is there any reason to believe something of that kind happened?”
Poirot drew back a little.
“I should not like to commit myself at this stage—”
“Naturally, naturally,” said Mr. Purvis, agreeing with a phrase that was familiar to him.
“But may I say, strictly in confidence, that there are some curious features about this business!”
“Really? You don’t say so?”
Mr. Purvis rubbed his hands together with a kind of pleasurable anticipation.
“What I wanted from you and what I have got,” continued Poirot, “is your opinion that Miss Arundell would, sooner or later, have changed her mind and relented towards her family.”
“That is only my personal opinion, of course,” the lawyer pointed out.
“My dear sir, I quite understand. You do not, I believe, act for Miss Lawson?”
“I advised Miss Lawson to consult an independent solicitor,” said Mr. Purvis.
His tone was wooden.
Poirot shook hands with him, thanking him for his kindness and the information he had given us.
Twenty
SECOND VISIT TO LITTLEGREEN HOUSE
On our way from Harchester to Market Basing, a matter of some ten miles, we discussed the situation.
“Have you any grounds at all, Poirot, for that suggestion you threw out?”
“You mean that Miss Arundell may have believed that that particular will was destroyed? No, mon ami—frankly, no. But it was incumbent upon me—you must perceive that—to make some sort of suggestion! Mr. Purvis is a shrewd man. Unless I threw out some hint of the kind I did, he would ask himself what I could be doing in this affair.”
“Do you know what you remind me of, Poirot?” I said.
“No, mon ami.”
“Of a juggler juggling with a lot of different coloured balls! They are all in the air at once.”
“The different coloured balls are the different lies I tell—eh?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“And some day, you think, there will come the grand crash?”
“You can’t keep it up forever,” I pointed out.
“That is true. There will come the grand moment when I catch the balls one by one, make my bow, and walk off the stage.”
“To the sound of thunderous applause from the audience.”
Poirot looked at me rather suspiciously.
“That well may be, yes.”
“We didn’t learn very much from Mr. Purvis,” I remarked, edging away from the danger point.
“No, except that it confirmed our general ideas.”
“And it confirmed Miss Lawson’s statement that she knew nothing about the will until after the old lady’s death.”
“Me, I do not see that it confirmed anything of the sort.”
“Purvis advised Miss Arundell not to tell her, and Miss Arundell replied that she had no intention of doing so.”
“Yes, that is all very nice and clear. But there are keyholes, my friend, and keys that unlock locked drawers.”
“Do you really think that Miss Lawson would eavesdrop and poke and pry around?” I asked rather shocked.
Poirot smiled.
“Miss Lawson—she is not an old school tie, mon cher. We know that