Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [81]
‘I am speaking, you see, of the Cloades. There is only one Cloade here, and so I can speak very freely. From the beginning the problem has fascinated me. Here is a whole family who circumstances have prevented from ever having to stand on their own feet. Though each one of the family had a life of his or her own, a profession, yet really they have never escaped from the shadow of a beneficent protection. They have had, always, freedom from fear. They have lived in security — and a security which was unnatural and artificial. Gordon Cloade was always there behind them.
‘What I say to you is this, there is no telling what a human character is, until the test comes. To most of us the test comes early in life. A man is confronted quite soon with the necessity to stand on his own feet, to face dangers and difficulties and to take his own line of dealing with them. It may be the straight way, it may be the crooked way — whichever it is, a man usually learns early just what he is made of.
‘But the Cloades had no opportunity of knowing their own weaknesses until the time when they were suddenly shorn of protection and were forced, quite unprepared, to face difficulty. One thing, and one thing only, stood between them and the resumption of security, the life of Rosaleen Cloade. I am quite certain in my own mind that every single one of the Cloades thought at one time or another, “If Rosaleen was to die —”’
Lynn shivered. Poirot paused, letting the words sink in, then went on:
‘The thought of death, her death, passed through every mind — of that I am certain. Did the further thought of murder pass through also? And did the thought, in one particular instance, go beyond thinking and become action.’
Without a change of voice he turned to Rowley:
‘Did you think of killing her?’
‘Yes,’ said Rowley. ‘It was the day she came to the farm. There was no one else there. I thought then — I could kill her quite easily. She looked pathetic — and very pretty — like the calves I’d sent to market. You can see how pathetic they are — but you send them off just the same. I wondered, really, that she wasn’t afraid…She would have been, if she’d known what was in my mind…Yes, it was in my mind when I took the lighter from her to light her cigarette.’
‘She left it behind, I suppose. That’s how you got hold of it.’
Rowley nodded.
‘I don’t know why I didn’t kill her,’ he said wonderingly. ‘I thought of it. One could have faked it up as an accident, or something.’
‘It was not your type of crime,’ said Poirot. ‘That is the answer. The man you did kill, you killed in a rage — and you did not really mean to kill him, I fancy?’
‘Good Lord, no. I hit him on the jaw. He went over backwards and hit his head on that marble fender. I couldn’t believe it when I found he was dead.’
Then suddenly he shot a startled glance at Poirot:
‘How did you know that?’
‘I think,’ said Poirot, ‘that I have reconstructed your actions fairly accurately. You shall tell me if I am wrong. You went to the Stag, did you not, and Beatrice Lippincott told you about the conversation she had overheard? Thereupon you went, as you have said, to your uncle’s, Jeremy Cloade, to get his opinion as a solicitor upon the position. Now something happened there, something that made you change your mind about consulting him. I think I know what that something was. You saw a photograph — ’
Rowley nodded.
‘Yes, it was on the desk. I suddenly realized the likeness. I realized too why the fellow’s face had seemed so familiar. I tumbled to it that Jeremy and Frances were getting some relation of hers to put up a stunt and get money out of Rosaleen. It made me see red. I went headlong back to the Stag and up to No. 5 and accused the fellow of being a fraud. He laughed and admitted it — said David Hunter was going to come across all right with the money that