Dumb Witness - Agatha Christie [82]
“Most distressing,” said Poirot with sympathy.
“It is indeed. Although one knows, medically speaking, that it is part of a recognized mental disease, yet one cannot help being hurt when a person very near and dear to you turns against you and all their affection changes to dislike.”
“You have my deepest sympathy,” said Poirot as he shook hands with his guest.
“By the way—” Poirot’s voice recalled Tanios just as he was at the door.
“Yes?”
“Do you ever prescribe chloral for your wife?”
Tanios gave a startled movement.
“I—no—at least I may have done. But not lately. She seems to have taken an aversion to any form of sleeping draught.”
“Ah! I suppose because she does not trust you?”
“M. Poirot!”
Tanios came striding forward angrily.
“That would be part of the disease,” said Poirot smoothly.
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“She is probably highly suspicious of anything you give her to eat or drink. Probably suspects you of wanting to poison her?”
“Dear me, M. Poirot, you are quite right. You know something of such cases, then?”
“One comes across them now and then in my profession, naturally. But do not let me detain you. You may find her waiting for you at the hotel.”
“True. I hope I shall. I feel terribly anxious.”
He hurried out of the room.
Poirot went swiftly to the telephone. He flicked over the pages of the telephone directory and asked for a number.
“Allo—Allo—is that the Durham Hotel. Can you tell me if Mrs. Tanios is in? What? T A N I O S. Yes, that is right. Yes? Yes? Oh, I see.”
He replaced the receiver.
“Mrs. Tanios left the hotel this morning early. She returned at eleven, waited in the taxi whilst her luggage was brought down and drove away with it.”
“Does Tanios know she took away her luggage?”
“I think not as yet.”
“Where has she gone?”
“Impossible to tell.”
“Do you think she will come back here?”
“Possibly. I cannot tell.”
“Perhaps she will write.”
“Perhaps.”
“What can we do?”
Poirot shook his head. He looked worried and distressed.
“Nothing at the moment. A hasty lunch and then we will go and see Theresa Arundell.”
“Do you believe it was her on the stairs?”
“Impossible to tell. One thing I made sure of—Miss Lawson could not have seen her face. She saw a tall figure in a dark dressing gown, that is all.”
“And the brooch.”
“My dear friend, a brooch is not part of a person’s anatomy! It can be detached from that person. It can be lost—or borrowed—or even stolen.”
“In other words you don’t want to believe Theresa Arundell guilty.”
“I want to hear what she has to say on the matter.”
“And if Mrs. Tanios comes back?”
“I will arrange for that.”
George brought in an omelette.
“Listen, George,” said Poirot. “If that lady comes back, you will ask her to wait. If Dr. Tanios comes while she is here on no account let him in. If he asks if his wife is here, you will tell him she is not. You understand?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
Poirot attacked the omelette.
“This business complicates itself,” he said. “We must step very carefully. If not—the murderer will strike again.”
“If he did you might get him.”
“Quite possibly, but I prefer the life of the innocent to the conviction of the guilty. We must go very, very carefully.”
Twenty-four
THERESA’S DENIAL
We found Theresa Arundell just preparing to go out.
She was looking extraordinarily attractive. A small hat of the most outrageous fashion descended rakishly over one eye. I recognized with momentary amusement that Bella Tanios had worn a cheap imitation of such a hat yesterday and had worn it—as George had put it—on the back of the head instead of over the right eye. I remembered well how she had pushed it farther and farther back on her untidy hair.
Poirot said, politely:
“Can I have just a minute or two, mademoiselle, or will it delay you too much?”
Theresa laughed.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m always three-quarters of an hour late for everything. I might