Elephants Can Remember - Agatha Christie [46]
‘Yes,’ said Desmond Burton-Cox, ‘yes, I think what you say is sensible and quite right but – well, things have been built up in such a way that I’ve got to make sure that Celia is satisfied. She’s – she’s a person who minds about things although she doesn’t talk about them much.’
‘Has it not occurred to you,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘that it may be very difficult, if not impossible, to find out what really happened.’
‘You mean which of them killed the other or why, or that one shot the other and then himself. Not unless – not unless there had been something.’
‘Yes, but that something would have been in the past, so why does it matter now?’
‘It oughtn’t to matter – it wouldn’t matter but for my mother interfering, poking about in things. It wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t suppose that, well, Celia’s ever thought much about it. I think probably that she was away at school in Switzerland at the time the tragedy happened and nobody told her much and, well, when you’re a teenager or younger still you just accept things as something that happened, but that’s not anything to do with you really.’
‘Then don’t you think that perhaps you’re wanting the impossible?’
‘I want you to find out,’ said Desmond. ‘Perhaps it’s not the kind of thing that you can find out, or that you like finding out –’
‘I have no objection to finding out,’ said Poirot. ‘In fact one has even a certain – curiosity, shall I say. Tragedies, things that arise as a matter of grief, surprise, shock, illness, they are human tragedies, human things, and it is only natural that if one’s attention is drawn to them one should want to know. What I say is, is it wise or necessary to rake up things?’
‘Perhaps it isn’t,’ said Desmond, ‘but you see . . .’
‘And also,’ said Poirot, interrupting him, ‘don’t you agree with me that it is rather an impossible thing to do after all this time?’
‘No,’ said Desmond, ‘that’s where I don’t agree with you. I think it would be quite possible.’
‘Very interesting,’ said Poirot. ‘Why do you think it would be quite possible?’
‘Because –’
‘Of what? You have a reason.’
‘I think there are people who would know. I think there are people who could tell you if they were willing to tell you. People, perhaps, who would not wish to tell me, who would not wish to tell Celia, but you might find out from them.’
‘That is interesting,’ said Poirot.
‘Things happened,’ said Desmond. ‘Things happened in the past. I – I’ve sort of heard about them in a vague way. There was some mental trouble. There was someone – I don’t know who exactly, I think it might have been Lady Ravenscroft – I think she was in a mental home for years. Quite a long time. Some tragedy had happened when she was quite young. Some child who died or an accident. Something that – well, she was concerned in it in some way.’
‘It is not what you know of your own knowledge, I presume?’
‘No. It’s something my mother said. Something she heard. She heard it in Malaya, I think. Gossip there from other people. You know how they get together in the Services, people like that, and the women all gossip together – all the memsahibs. Saying things that mightn’t be true at all.’
‘And you want to know whether they were true or were not true?’
‘Yes, and I don’t know how to find out myself. Not now, because it was a long time ago and I don’t know who to ask. I don’t know who to go to, but until we really find out what did happen and why –’
‘What you mean is,’ said Poirot, ‘at least I think I am right only this is pure surmise on my part, Celia Ravenscroft does not want to marry you unless she is quite sure that there is no mental flaw passed to her presumably by her mother. Is that it?’
‘I think that is what she has got into her head somehow. And I think my mother put it there. I think it’s what my mother wants to believe. I don’t think she’s any reason really for believing it except ill-mannered spite and gossip and all the