Sad cypress - Agatha Christie [53]
He said:
‘I am Hercule Poirot. I have been sent to you by Dr Peter Lord. He thinks that I can help you.’
Elinor Carlisle said:
‘Peter Lord…’ Her tone was reminiscent. For a moment she smiled a little wistfully. She went on formally: ‘It was kind of him, but I do not think there is anything you can do.’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘Will you answer my questions?’
She sighed. She said:
‘Believe me – really – it would be better not to ask them. I am in good hands. Mr Seddon has been most kind. I am to have a very famous counsel.’
Poirot said:
‘He is not so famous as I am!’
Elinor Carlisle said with a touch of weariness:
‘He has a great reputation.’
‘Yes, for defending criminals. I have a great reputation – for demonstrating innocence.’
She lifted her eyes at last – eyes of a vivid, beautiful blue. They looked straight into Poirot’s. She said:
‘Do you believe I am innocent?’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘Are you?’
Elinor smiled, an ironic little smile. She said:
‘Is that a sample of your questions? It is very easy, isn’t it, to answer Yes?’
He said unexpectedly:
‘You are very tired, are you not?’
Her eyes widened a little. She answered:
‘Why, yes – that more than anything. How did you know?’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘I knew…’
Elinor said:
‘I shall be glad when it is – over.’
Poirot looked at her for a minute in silence. Then he said:
‘I have seen your – cousin, shall I call him for convenience? – Mr Roderick Welman.’
Into the white proud face the colour crept slowly up. He knew then that one question of his was answered without his asking it.
She said, and her voice shook very slightly:
‘You’ve seen Roddy?’
Poirot said:
‘He is doing all he can for you.’
‘I know.’
Her voice was quick and soft.
Poirot said:
‘Is he poor or rich?’
‘Roddy? He has not very much money of his own.’
‘And he is extravagant?’
She said, almost absently:
‘Neither of us ever thought it mattered. We knew that some day…’
She stopped.
Poirot said quickly:
‘You counted on your inheritance? That is understandable.’
He went on:
‘You have heard, perhaps, the result of the autopsy on your aunt’s body. She died of morphine poisoning.’
Elinor Carlisle said coldly:
‘I did not kill her.’
‘Did you help her to kill herself?’
‘Did I help –? Oh, I see. No, I did not.’
‘Did you know that your aunt had not made a will?’
‘No, I had no idea of that.’
Her voice was flat now – dull. The answer was mechanical, uninterested.
Poirot said:
‘And you yourself, have you made a will?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you make it the day Dr Lord spoke to you about it?’
‘Yes.’
Again that swift wave of colour.
Poirot said:
‘How have you left your fortune, Miss Carlisle?’
Elinor said quietly:
‘I have left everything to Roddy – to Roderick Welman.’
Poirot said:
‘Does he know that?’
She said quickly:
‘Certainly not.’
‘You didn’t discuss it with him?’
‘Of course not. He would have been horribly embarrassed and would have disliked what I was doing very much.’
‘Who else knows the contents of your will?’
‘Only Mr Seddon – and his clerks, I suppose.’
‘Did Mr Seddon draw up the will for you?’
‘Yes. I wrote to him that same evening – I mean the evening of the day Dr Lord spoke to me about it.’
‘Did you post your letter yourself?’
‘No. It went in the box from the house with the other letters.’
‘You wrote it, put it in an envelope, sealed it, stamped it and put it in the box – comme ça? You did not pause to reflect? To read it over?’
Elinor said, staring at him:
‘I read it over – yes. I had gone to look for some stamps. When I came back with them, I just re-read the letter to be sure I had put it clearly.’
‘Was anyone in the room with you?’
‘Only Roddy.’
‘Did he know what you were doing?’
‘I told you – no.’
‘Could anyone have read that letter when you were out of the room?’
‘I don’t know…One of the servants, you mean? I suppose they could have if they had chanced to come in while I was out of the