Six

Hercule Poirot said:

“So you see, my friend, the lies people tell are just as useful as the truth?”

Peter Lord said:

“Did everyone tell you lies?”

Hercule Poirot nodded.

“Oh, yes! For one reason or another, you comprehend. The one person to whom truth was anobligation and who was sensitive and scrupulous¹ concerning it-that person was the one whopuzzled me most!”

Peter Lord murmured:

“Elinor herself!”

“Precisely. The evidence pointed² to her as the guilty party. And she herself, with her sensitiveand fastidious conscience, did nothing to dispel³ that assumption. Accusing herself of the will, ifnot the deed, she came very near to abandoning a distasteful and sordid⁴ fight and pleading guiltyin court to a crime she had not committed.”

Peter Lord breathed a sigh of exasperation⁵.

“Incredible.”

Poirot shook his head.

“Not at all. She condemned⁶ herself-because she judged herself by a more exacting⁷ standardthan ordinary humanity applies!”

Peter Lord said thoughtfully:

“Yes, she’s like that.”

Hercule Poirot went on:

“From the moment that I started my investigations⁸ there was always the strong possibility thatElinor Carlisle was guilty of the crime of which she was accused. But I fulfilled my obligationstowards you and I discovered that a fairly strong case could be made out against another person.”

“Nurse Hopkins?”

“Not to begin with. Roderick Welman was the first person to attract my attention. In his case,again, we start with a lie. He told me that he left England on July 9th and returned on August 1st.

But Nurse Hopkins had mentioned casually⁹ that Mary Gerrard had rebuffed Roderick. Welman’sadvances both in Maidensford ‘and again when she saw him in London.’ Mary Gerrard, youinformed me, went to London on July 10th-a day after Roderick Welman had left England.

When then did Mary Gerrard have an interview with Roderick Welman in London? I set myburglarious friend to work, and by an examination of Welman’s passport I discovered that he hadbeen in England from July 25th to the 27th. And he had deliberately¹⁰ lied about it.

“There had always been that period of time in my mind when the sandwiches were on a plate inthe pantry and Elinor Carlisle was down at the Lodge¹¹. But all along I realized that in that caseElinor must have been the intended victim, not Mary. Had Roderick Welman any motive¹² forkilling Elinor Carlisle? Yes, a very good one. She had made a will leaving him her entire fortune;and by adroit¹³ questioning I discovered that Roderick Welman could have made himself acquaintedwith that fact.”

Peter Lord said:

“And why did you decide that he was innocent?”

“Because of one more lie. Such a silly stupid negligible little lie, too. Nurse Hopkins said thatshe had scratched her wrist on a rose tree, that she had got a thorn in it. And I went and saw therose tree, and it had no thorns… So clearly Nurse Hopkins had told a lie-and the lie was so sillyand so seemingly pointless that it focused my attention upon her.

“I began to wonder about Nurse Hopkins. Up till then she had struck me as a perfectly¹⁴ crediblewitness, consistent throughout, with a strong bias¹⁵ against the accused arising naturally enough outof her affection for the dead girl. But now, with that silly pointless little lie in my mind, Iconsidered Nurse Hopkins and her evidence very carefully, and I realized something that I had notbeen clever enough to see before. Nurse Hopkins knew something about Mary Gerrard which shewas very anxious should come out.”

Peter Lord said in surprise:

“I thought it was the other way round?”

“Ostensibly, yes. She gave a very fine performance of someone who knows something and isn’tgoing to tell! But when I thought it over carefully I realized that every word she had said on thesubject had been uttered with diametrically the opposite end in view. My conversation with NurseO’Brien confirmed that belief. Hopkins had used her very cleverly without Nurse O’Brien beingconscious of the fact.

“It was clear then that Nurse Hopkins had a game of her own to play. I contrasted the two lies,her and Roderick Welman’s. Was either of them capable of an innocent explanation?

“In Roderick’s case, I answered immediately: Yes. Roderick Welman is a very sensitivecreature. To admit that he had been unable to keep to his plan of staying abroad, and had beencompelled to slink back and hang round the girl, who would have nothing to do with him, wouldhave been most hurtful to his pride. Since there was no question of his having been near the sceneof the murder or of knowing anything about it, he took the line of least resistance and avoidedunpleasantness (a most characteristic trait!) by ignoring that hurried visit to England and simplystating that he returned on August 1st when the news of the murder reached him.

“Now as to Nurse Hopkins, could there be an innocent explanation of her lie? The more Ithought of it, the more extraordinary it seemed to me. Why should Nurse Hopkins find it necessaryto lie because she had a mark on her wrist? What was the significance of that mark?

“I began to ask myself certain questions. Who did the morphine that was stolen belong to?

Nurse Hopkins. Who could have administered that morphine to old Mrs. Welman? NurseHopkins. Yes, but why call attention to its disappearance¹⁶? There could be only one answer to thatif Nurse Hopkins was guilty: because the other murder, the murder of Mary Gerrard, was alreadyplanned, and a scapegoat¹⁷ had been selected, but that scapegoat must be shown to have had achance of obtaining morphine.

“Certain other things fitted in. The anonymous¹⁸ letter written to Elinor. That was to create badfeeling between Elinor and Mary. The idea doubtless was that Elinor would come down and objectto Mary’s influence over Mrs. Welman. The fact that Roderick Welman fell violently in love withMary was, of course, a totally unforeseen circumstance-but one that Nurse Hopkins was quick toappreciate. Here was a perfect motive for the scapegoat, Elinor.

“But what was the reason for the two crimes? What motive could there be for Nurse Hopkins todo away with Mary Gerrard? I began to see a light-oh, very dim as yet. Nurse Hopkins had agood deal of influence over Mary, and one of the ways she had used that influence was to inducethe girl to make a will. But the will did not benefit Nurse Hopkins. It benefited an aunt of Mary’swho lived in New Zealand. And then I remembered a chance remark that someone in the villagehad made to me. That aunt had been a hospital nurse.

“The light was not quite so dim now. The pattern-the design of the crime-was becomingapparent. The next step was easy. I visited Nurse Hopkins once more. We both played the comedyvery prettily¹⁹. In the end she allowed herself to be persuaded to tell what she had been aiming totell all along! Only she tells it, perhaps, just a little sooner than she meant to do! But theopportunity is so good that she cannot resist. And, after all, the truth has got to be known sometime. So, with well-feigned reluctance²⁰, she produces the letter. And then, my friend, it is no longerconjecture. I know! The letter gives her away.”

Peter Lord frowned and said:

“How?”

“Mon cher! The superscription on that letter was as follows: ‘For Mary, to be sent to her aftermy death.’ But the gist²¹ of the contents made it perfectly plain that Mary Gerrard was not to knowthe truth. Also, the word sent (not given) on the envelope was illuminating²². It was not MaryGerrard to whom that letter was written, but another Mary. It was to her sister, Mary Riley, inNew Zealand, that Eliza Riley wrote the truth.

“Nurse Hopkins did not find that letter at the Lodge after Mary Gerrard’s death. She had had itin her possession for many years. She received it in New Zealand, where it was sent to her afterher sister’s death.”

He paused.

“Once one had seen the truth with the eyes of the mind the rest was easy. The quickness of airtravel made it possible for a witness who knew Mary Draper well in New Zealand to be present incourt.”

Peter Lord said:

“Supposing you had been wrong and Nurse Hopkins and Mary Draper had been two entirelydifferent people?”

Poirot said coldly:

“I am never wrong!”

Peter Lord laughed:

Hercule Poirot went on:

“My friend, we know something now of this woman Mary Riley or Draper. The police of NewZealand were unable to get sufficient evidence for a conviction, but they had been watching her forsome time when she suddenly left the country. There was a patient of hers, an old lady, who lefther ‘dear Nurse Riley’ a very snug²³ little legacy²⁴, and whose death was somewhat of a puzzle to thedoctor attending her. Mary Draper’s husband insured his life in her favour for a considerable sum,and his death was sudden and unaccountable. Unfortunately for her, though he had made out acheque to the Insurance Company, he had forgotten to post it. Other deaths may lie at her door. Itis certain she is a remorseless and unscrupulous woman.

“One can imagine that her sister’s letter suggested possibilities to her resourceful mind. WhenNew Zealand became too hot, as you say, to hold her, and she came to this country and resumedher profession in the name of Hopkins (a former colleague of hers in hospital who died abroad),Maidensford was her objective. She may perhaps have contemplated²⁵ some form of blackmail²⁶. Butold Mrs. Welman was not the kind of woman to allow herself to be blackmailed²⁷, and Nurse Riley,or Hopkins, very wisely did not attempt anything of the sort. Doubtless she made inquiries²⁸ anddiscovered that Mrs. Welman was a very wealthy woman, and some chance word of Mrs.

Welman’s may have revealed the fact that the old lady had not made a will.

“So, on that June evening, when Nurse O’Brien retailed²⁹ to her colleague that Mrs. Welman wasasking for her lawyer, Hopkins did not hesitate. Mrs. Welman must die intestate so that herillegitimate daughter would inherit her money. Hopkins had already made friends with MaryGerrard and acquired a good deal of influence over the girl. All that she had to do now was topersuade the girl to make a will leaving her money to her mother’s sister; and she inspired thewording of that will very carefully. There was no mention of the relationship: just ‘Mary Riley,sister of the late Eliza Riley.’ Once that was signed, Mary Gerrard was doomed³⁰. The woman onlyhad to wait for a suitable opportunity. She had, I fancy, already planned the method of the crime,with the use of the apomorphine to secure her own alibi³¹. She may have meant to get Elinor andMary to her cottage, but when Elinor came down to the Lodge and asked them both to come upand have sandwiches she realized at once that a perfect opportunity had arisen. The circumstanceswere such that Elinor was practically certain to be convicted.”

Peter Lord said slowly:

“If it hadn’t been for you-she would have been convicted.”

Hercule Poirot said quickly:

“No, it is you, my friend, she has to thank for her life.”

“I? I didn’t do anything. I tried-”

He broke off. Hercule Poirot smiled a little.

“Mais oui, you tried very hard, did you not? You were impatient because I did not seem to youto be getting anywhere. And you were afraid, too, that she might, after all, be guilty. And so, withgreat impertinence, you also told me the lies! But, mon cher, you were not very clever about it. Infuture I advise you to stick to the measles³² and the whooping³³ cough and leave crime detectionalone.”

Peter Lord blushed.

He said:

“Did you know-all the time?”

Poirot said severely³⁴:

“You lead me by the hand to a clearing in the shrubs³⁵, and you assist me to find a Germanmatchbox that you have just put there! C’est l’enfantillage!”

Peter Lord winced³⁶.

He groaned³⁷:

“Rub it in!”

Poirot went on:

“You converse³⁸ with the gardener and lead him to say that he saw your car in the road; and thenyou give a start and pretend that it was not your car. And you look hard at me to make sure that Irealize that someone, a stranger, must have been there that morning.”

“I was a damned fool,” said Peter Lord.

“What were you doing at Hunterbury that morning?”

Peter Lord blushed.

“It was just sheer idiocy… I-I’d heard she was down. I went up to the house on the chance ofseeing her. I didn’t mean to speak to her. I-I just wanted to-well-see her. From the path in theshrubbery I saw her in the pantry cutting bread and butter-”

“Charlotte and the poet Werther. Continue, my friend.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to tell. I just slipped into the bushes and stayed there watching her till shewent away.”

Poirot said gently:

“Did you fall in love with Elinor Carlisle the first time you saw her?”

There was a long silence.

“I suppose so.”

Then Peter Lord said:

“Oh, well, I suppose she and Roderick Welman will live happy ever afterwards.”

Hercule Poirot said:

“My dear friend, you suppose nothing of the sort!”

“Why not? She’ll forgive him the Mary Gerrard business. It was only a wild infatuation on hispart, anyway.”

Hercule Poirot said:

“It goes deeper than that… There is, sometimes, a deep chasm³⁹ between the past and the future.

When one has walked in the valley of the shadow of death, and come out of it into the sunshine-then, mon cher, it is a new life that begins… The past will not serve….”

He waited a minute and then went on:

“A new life… That is what Elinor Carlisle is beginning now-and it is you who have given herthat life.”

“No.”

“Yes. It was your determination, your arrogant⁴⁰ insistence⁴¹ that compelled me to do as you asked.

Admit now, it is to you she turns in gratitude⁴², is it not?”

Peter Lord said slowly:

“Yes, she’s very grateful-now… She asked me to go and see her-often.”

“Yes, she needs you.”

Peter Lord said violently:

“Not as she needs-him!”

Hercule Poirot shook his head.

“She never needed Roderick Welman. She loved him, yes, unhappily-even desperately⁴³.”

Peter Lord, his face set and grim, said harshly:

“She will never love me like that.”

Hercule Poirot said softly:

“Perhaps not. But she needs you, my friend, because it is only with you that she can begin theworld again.”

Peter Lord said nothing.

Hercule Poirot’s voice was very gentle as he said:

“Can you not accept facts? She loved Roderick Welman. What of it? With you, she can behappy….”

 

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