Elephants Can Remember - Agatha Christie [73]
‘Yes,’ said Poirot, ‘I can understand that. Now, if I may I will talk of wigs. Wigs. The wearing of wigs. Four wigs. That is a lot for one woman to possess at one time. I know what they were like, what they looked like. I know that when more were needed, a French lady went to the shop in London and spoke about them and ordered them. There was a dog, too. A dog who went for a walk on the day of the tragedy with General Ravenscroft and his wife. Earlier that dog, some little time earlier, had bitten his mistress, Molly Ravenscroft.’
‘Dogs are like that,’ said Zélie Meauhourat. ‘They are never quite to be trusted. Yes, I know that.’
‘And I will tell you what I think happened on that day, and what happened before that. Some little time before that.’
‘And if I will not listen to you?’
‘You will listen to me. You may say that what I have imagined is false. Yes, you might even do that, but I do not think you will. I am telling you, and I believe it with all my heart, that what is needed here is the truth. It is not just imagining, it is not just wondering. There is a girl and a boy who care for each other and who are frightened of the future because of what may have happened and what there might be handed down from the father or the mother to the child. I am thinking of the girl, Celia. A rebellious girl, spirited, difficult perhaps to manage but with brains, a good mind, capable of happiness, capable of courage but needing – there are people who need – truth. Because they can face truth without dismay. They can face it with that brave acceptance you have to have in life if life is to be any good to you. And the boy that she loves, he wants that for her too. Will you listen to me?’
‘Yes,’ said Zélie Meauhourat, ‘I am listening. You understand a great deal, I think, and I think you know more than I could have imagined you would know. Speak and I will listen.’
Chapter 20
Court of Enquiry
Once more Hercule Poirot stood on the cliff overlooking the rocks below and the sea breaking against them. Here where he stood the bodies of a husband and wife had been found. Here, three weeks before that a woman had walked in her sleep and fallen to her death.
‘Why had these things happened?’ That had been Superintendent Garroway’s question.
Why? What had led to it?
An accident first – and three weeks later a double suicide. Old sins that had left long shadows. A beginning that had led years later to a tragic end.
Today there would be people meeting here. A boy and a girl who sought the Truth. Two people who knew the truth.
Hercule Poirot turned away from the sea and back along the narrow path that led to a house once called Overcliffe.
It was not very far. He saw cars parked against a wall. He saw the outline of a house against the sky. A house that was clearly empty – that needed repainting. A house agent’s board hung there – announcing that ‘this desirable property’ was for sale. On the gate the word Overcliffe had a line drawn over it and the name Down House replaced it. He went to meet two people who were walking towards him. One was Desmond Burton-Cox and the other was Celia Ravenscroft.
‘I got an order from the house agent,’ said Desmond, ‘saying we wanted to view it or however they put it. I’ve got the key in case we want to go inside. It’s changed hands twice in the last five years. But there wouldn’t be anything to see there now, would there?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Celia. ‘After all, it’s belonged to lots of people already. Some people called Archer who first bought it, and then somebody called Fallowfield, I think. They said it was too lonely. And now these last people are selling it too. Perhaps they were haunted.’
‘Do you really believe in haunted houses?’ said Desmond.
‘Well now, of course I don’t think so really,’ said Celia, ‘but this might be, mightn’t it? I mean, the sort of things that happened,