Sad cypress - Agatha Christie [38]
‘What do you mean? Made up my mind?’
‘You are quite sure that it was she who administered morphine to Mary Gerrard?’
‘Who else could have done it, I should like to know? You’re not suggesting that I did?’
‘Not for a moment. But her guilt has not yet been proved, remember.’
Nurse Hopkins said with calm assurance:
‘She did it all right. Apart from anything else, you could see it in her face. Queer she was, all the time. And taking me away upstairs and keeping me there – delaying as long as possible. And then when I turned on her, after finding Mary like that, it was there in her face as plain as anything. She knew I knew!’
Hercule Poirot said thoughtfully:
‘It is certainly difficult to see who else could have done it. Unless of course, she did it herself.’
‘What do you mean, did it herself? Do you mean that Mary committed suicide? I never heard such nonsense!’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘One can never tell. The heart of a young girl, it is very sensitive, very tender.’ He paused. ‘It would have been possible, I suppose? She could have slipped something into her tea without your noticing her?’
‘Slipped it into her cup, you mean?’
‘Yes. You weren’t watching her all the time.’
‘I wasn’t watching her – no. Yes, I suppose she could have done that…But it’s all nonsense! What would she want to do a thing like that for?’
Hercule Poirot shook his head with a resumption of his former manner.
‘A young girl’s heart…as I say, so sensitive. An unhappy love-affair, perhaps –’
Nurse Hopkins gave a snort.
‘Girls don’t kill themselves for love-affairs – not unless they’re in the family way – and Mary wasn’t that, let me tell you!’ She glared at him belligerently.
‘And she was not in love?’
‘Not she. Quite fancy free. Keen on her job and enjoying her life.’
‘But she must have had admirers, since she was such an attractive girl.’
Nurse Hopkins said:
‘She wasn’t one of these girls who are all S.A. and IT. She was a quiet girl!’
‘But there were young men, no doubt, in the village who admired her.’
‘There was Ted Bigland, of course,’ said Nurse Hopkins.
Poirot extracted various details as to Ted Bigland.
‘Very gone on Mary, he was,’ said Nurse Hopkins. ‘But, as I told her, she was a cut above him.’
Poirot said:
‘He must have been angry when she would not have anything to do with him?’
‘He was sore about it, yes,’ admitted Nurse Hopkins. ‘Blamed me for it, too.’
‘He thought it was your fault?’
‘That’s what he said. I’d a perfect right to advise the girl. After all, I know something of the world. I didn’t want the girl to throw herself away.’
Poirot said gently:
‘What made you take so much interest in the girl?’
‘Well, I don’t know…’ Nurse Hopkins hesitated. She looked shy and a little ashamed of herself. ‘There was something – well – romantic about Mary.’
Poirot murmured:
‘About her, perhaps, but not about her circumstances. She was the lodge-keeper’s daughter, wasn’t she?’
Nurse Hopkins said:
‘Yes – yes, of course. At least –’
She hesitated, looked at Poirot, who was gazing at her in the most sympathetic manner.
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Nurse Hopkins, in a burst of confidence, ‘she wasn’t old Gerrard’s daughter at all. He told me so. Her father was a gentleman.’
Poirot murmured:
‘I see…And her mother?’
Nurse Hopkins hesitated, bit her lip, and then went on:
‘Her mother had been a lady’s maid to old Mrs Welman. She married Gerrard after Mary was born.’
‘As you say, quite a romance – a mystery romance.’
Nurse Hopkins’ face lit up.
‘Wasn’t it? One can’t help taking an interest in people when one knows something that nobody else does about them. Just by chance I happened to find out a good deal. As a matter of fact, it was Nurse O’Brien who set me on the track; but that’s another story. But, as you say, it’s interesting knowing past history. There’s many a tragedy that goes unguessed at. It’s a sad world.’
Poirot sighed and shook his head.
Nurse Hopkins said with sudden alarm:
‘But I oughtn’t to have gone talking like this. I wouldn’t have a word of this get out for anything! After all,