Twenty-six

THE TRUTH

There was a pause—a very long pause.

The room was growing dark. The firelight leaped and flickered¹.

Mrs. Lorrimer and Hercule Poirot looked not at each other, but at the fire. It was as though timewas momentarily in abeyance².

Then Hercule Poirot sighed and stirred.

“So it was that—all the time … Why did you kill him, madame?”

“I think you know why, M. Poirot.”

“Because he knew something about you—something that had happened long ago?”

“Yes.”

“And that something was—another death, madame?”

She bowed her head.

Poirot said gently:

“Why did you tell me? What made you send for me today?”

“You told me once that I should do so someday.”

“Yes—that is, I hoped … I knew, madame, that there was only one way of learning the truth asfar as you were concerned—and that was by your own free will. If you did not choose to speak,you would not do so, and you would never give yourself away. But there was a chance—that youyourself might wish to speak.”

Mrs. Lorrimer nodded.

“It was clever of you to foresee that—the weariness—the loneliness—”

Her voice died away.

Poirot looked at her curiously³.

“So it has been like that? Yes, I can understand it might be….”

“Alone—quite alone,” said Mrs. Lorrimer. “No one knows what that means unless they havelived, as I have lived, with the knowledge of what one has done.”

Poirot said gently:

“Is it an impertinence, madame, or may I be permitted to offer my sympathy?”

She bent⁴ her head a little.

“Thank you, M. Poirot.”

There was another pause, then Poirot said, speaking in a slightly brisker tone:

“Am I to understand, madame, that you took the words Mr. Shaitana spoke⁵ at dinner as a directmenace aimed at you?”

She nodded.

“I realized at once that he was speaking so that one person should understand him. That personwas myself. The reference to a woman’s weapon being poison was meant for me. He knew. I hadsuspected it once before. He had brought the conversation round to a certain famous trial, and Isaw his eyes watching me. There was a kind of uncanny knowledge in them. But, of course, thatnight I was quite sure.”

“And you were sure, too, of his future intentions?”

Mrs. Lorrimer said drily:

“It was hardly likely that the presence of Superintendent⁶ Battle and yourself was an accident. Itook it that Shaitana was going to advertise his own cleverness by pointing out to you both that hehad discovered something that no one else had suspected.”

“How soon did you make up your mind to act, madame?”

Mrs. Lorrimer hesitated a little.

“It is difficult to remember exactly when the idea came into my mind,” she said. “I had noticedthe dagger⁷ before going into dinner. When we returned to the drawing room I picked it up andslipped it into my sleeve. No one saw me do it. I made sure of that.”

“It would be dexterously⁸ done, I have no doubt, madame.”

“I made up my mind then exactly what I was going to do. I had only to carry it out. It was risky,perhaps, but I considered that it was worth trying.”

“That is your coolness, your successful weighing of chances, coming into play. Yes, I see that.”

“We started to play bridge,” continued Mrs. Lorrimer. Her voice cool and unemotional. “At lastan opportunity arose. I was dummy⁹. I strolled across the room to the fireplace. Shaitana had dozedoff to sleep. I looked over at the others. They were all intent on the game. I leant over and—anddid it—”

Her voice shook just a little, but instantly it regained¹⁰ its cool aloofness¹¹.

“I spoke to him. It came into my head that that would make a kind of alibi¹² for me. I made someremark about the fire, and then pretended he had answered me and went on again, sayingsomething like: ‘I agree with you. I do not like radiators¹³, either.’”

“He did not cry out at all?”

“No. I think he made a little grunt—that was all. It might have been taken for words from adistance.”

“And then?”

“And then I went back to the bridge table. The last trick was just being played.”

“And you sat down and resumed play?”

“Yes.”

“With sufficient interest in the game to be able to tell me nearly all the calling and the hands twodays later?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Lorrimer simply.

“Epatant!” said Hercule Poirot.

He leaned back in his chair. He nodded his head several times. Then, by way of a change, heshook it.

“But there is still something, madame, that I do not understand.”

“Yes?”

“It seems to me that there is some factor that I have missed. You are a woman who considersand weighs everything carefully. You decide that, for a certain reason, you will run an enormousrisk. You do run it—successfully. And then, not two weeks later, you change your mind. Frankly,madame, that does not seem to me to ring true.”

A queer little smile twisted her lips.

“You are quite right, M. Poirot, there is one factor that you do not know. Did Miss Meredith tellyou where she met me the other day?”

“It was, I think she said, near Mrs. Oliver’s flat.”

“I believe that is so. But I meant the actual name of the street. Anne Meredith met me in HarleyStreet.”

“Ah!” He looked at her attentively¹⁴. “I begin to see.”

“Yes, I thought you would. I had been to see a specialist there. He told me what I already halfsuspected.”

Her smile widened. It was no longer twisted and bitter. It was suddenly sweet.

“I shall not play very much more bridge, M. Poirot. Oh, he didn’t say so in so many words. Hewrapped up the truth a little. With great care, etc., etc., I might live several years. But I shall nottake any great care. I am not that kind of a woman.”

“Yes, yes, I begin to understand,” said Poirot.

“It made a difference, you see. A month—two months, perhaps—not more. And then, just as Ileft the specialist, I met Miss Meredith. I asked her to have tea with me.”

She paused, then went on:

“I am not, after all, a wholly wicked woman. All the time we were having tea I was thinking. Bymy action the other evening I had not only deprived the man Shaitana of life (that was done, andcould not be undone), I had also, to a varying degree, affected¹⁶ unfavourably the lives of three otherpeople. Because of what I had done, Dr. Roberts, Major Despard and Anne Meredith, none ofwhom had injured me in any way, were passing through a very grave ordeal¹⁷, and might even be indanger. That, at least, I could undo¹⁵. I don’t know that I felt particularly moved by the plight¹⁸ ofeither Dr. Roberts or Major Despard—although both of them had presumably a much longer spanof life in front of them than I had. They were men, and could, to a certain extent, look afterthemselves. But when I looked at Anne Meredith—”

She hesitated, then continued slowly:

“Anne Meredith was only a girl. She had the whole of her life in front of her. This miserablebusiness might ruin that life….

“I didn’t like the thought of that….

“And then, M. Poirot, with these ideas growing in my mind, I realized that what you had hintedhad come true. I was not going to be able to keep silence. This afternoon I rang you up….”

Minutes passed.

Hercule Poirot leaned forward. He stared, deliberately¹⁹ stared through the gathering²⁰ gloom, atMrs. Lorrimer. She returned that intent gaze quietly and without any nervousness.

He said at last:

“Mrs. Lorrimer, are you sure—are you positive (you will tell me the truth, will you not?)—thatthe murder of Mr. Shaitana was not premeditated? Is it not a fact that you planned the crimebeforehand—that you went to that dinner with the murder already mapped out in your mind?”

Mrs. Lorrimer stared at him for a moment, then she shook her head sharply.

“No,” she said.

“You did not plan the murder beforehand?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then—then … Oh, you are lying to me—you must be lying! … ”

Mrs. Lorrimer’s voice cut into the air like ice.

“Really, M. Poirot, you forget yourself.”

The little man sprang to his feet. He paced up and down the room, muttering to himself, utteringejaculations.

Suddenly he said:

“Permit me.”

And, going to the switch, he turned on the electric lights.

He came back, sat down in his chair, placed both hands on his knees and stared straight at hishostess.

“The question is,” he said, “can Hercule Poirot possibly be wrong?”

“No one can always be right,” said Mrs. Lorrimer coldly.

“I am,” said Poirot. “Always I am right. It is so invariable that it startles me. But now it looks, itvery much looks, as though I am wrong. And that upsets me. Presumably, you know what you aresaying. It is your murder! Fantastic, then, that Hercule Poirot should know better than you do howyou committed it.”

“Fantastic and very absurd,” said Mrs. Lorrimer still more coldly.

“I am, then, mad. Decidedly I am mad: No—sacré nom d’un petit bonhomme—I am not mad! Iam right. I must be right. I am willing to believe that you killed Mr. Shaitana—but you cannothave killed him in the way you say you did. No one can do a thing that is not dans soncharactère!”

He paused. Mrs. Lorrimer drew in an angry breath and bit her lips. She was about to speak, butPoirot forestalled²¹ her.

“Either the killing²² of Shaitana was planned beforehand—or you did not kill him at all!”

Mrs. Lorrimer said sharply:

“I really believe you are mad, M. Poirot. If I am willing to admit I committed the crime, Ishould not be likely to lie about the way I did it. What would be the point of such a thing?”

Poirot got up again and took one turn round the room. When he came back to his seat hismanner had changed. He was gentle and kindly²³.

“You did not kill Shaitana,” he said softly. “I see that now. I see everything. Harley Street. Andlittle Anne Meredith standing²⁴ forlorn on the pavement. I see, too, another girl—a very long timeago, a girl who has gone through life always alone—terribly alone. Yes, I see all that. But onething I do not see—why are you so certain that Anne Meredith did it?”

“Really, M. Poirot—”

“Absolutely useless to protest—to lie further to me, madame. I tell you, I know the truth. I knowthe very emotions that swept over you that day in Harley Street. You would not have done it forDr. Roberts — oh, no! You would not have done it for Major Despard, non plus. But AnneMeredith is different. You have compassion²⁵ for her, because she has done what you once did. Youdo not know even—or so I imagine—what reason she had for the crime. But you are quite sureshe did it. You were sure that first evening—the evening it happened—when Superintendent Battleinvited you to give your views on the case. Yes, I know it all, you see. It is quite useless to liefurther to me. You see that, do you not?”

He paused for an answer, but none came. He nodded his head in satisfaction.

“Yes, you are sensible. That is good. It is a very noble action that you perform there, madame,to take the blame on yourself and to let this child escape.”

“You forget,” said Mrs. Lorrimer in a dry voice, “I am not an innocent woman. Years ago, M.

Poirot, I killed my husband….”

There was a moment’s silence.

“I see,” said Poirot. “It is justice. After all, only justice. You have the logical mind. You arewilling to suffer for the act you committed. Murder is murder—it does not matter who the victimis. Madame, you have courage, and you have clearsightedness. But I ask of you once more: Howcan you be so sure? How do you know that it was Anne Meredith who killed Mr. Shaitana?”

A deep sigh broke from Mrs. Lorrimer. Her last resistance had gone down before Poirot’sinsistence. She answered his question quite simply like a child.

“Because,” she said, “I saw her.”

 

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