Two

At the foot of the narrow flight of stairs a door gave admission to a large-sized living room—actually the converted stable. In this room, the walls of which were finished in a roughened plastereffect and on which hung etchings and woodcuts, two people were sitting.

One, in a chair near the fireplace, her hand stretched out to the blaze, was a dark efficient-looking young woman of twenty-seven or eight. The other, an elderly woman of ampleproportions who carried a string bag, was panting and talking when the two men entered the room.

“—and as I said, Miss, such a turn it gave me I nearly dropped down where I stood. And tothink that this morning of all mornings—”

The other cut her short.

“That will do, Mrs.?Pierce. These gentlemen are police officers, I think.”

“Miss?Plenderleith?” asked Japp, advancing.

The girl nodded.

“That is my name. This is Mrs.?Pierce who comes in to work for us every day.”

The irrepressible Mrs.?Pierce broke out again.

“And as I was saying to Miss?Plenderleith, to think that this morning of all mornings, mysister’s Louisa Maud should have been took with a fit and me the only one handy and as I say fleshand blood is flesh and blood, and I didn’t think Mrs.?Allen would mind, though I never likes todisappoint my ladies—”

Japp broke in with some dexterity¹.

“Quite so, Mrs.?Pierce. Now perhaps you would take Inspector² Jameson into the kitchen andgive him a brief statement.”

Having then got rid of the voluble Mrs.?Pierce, who departed with Jameson talking thirteen tothe dozen, Japp turned his attention once more to the girl.

“I am Chief Inspector Japp. Now, Miss?Plenderleith, I should like to know all you can tell meabout this business.”

“Certainly. Where shall I begin?”

Her self-possession was admirable. There were no signs of grief or shock save for an almostunnatural rigidity³ of manner.

“You arrived this morning at what time?”

“I think it was just before half past ten. Mrs.?Pierce, the old liar⁴, wasn’t here, I found—”

“Is that a frequent occurrence?”

Jane Plenderleith shrugged⁵ her shoulders.

“About twice a week she turns up at twelve—or not at all. She’s supposed to come at nine.

Actually, as I say, twice a week she either ‘comes over queer,’ or else some member of her familyis overtaken by sickness. All these daily women are like that—fail you now and again. She’s notbad as they go.”

“You’ve had her long?”

“Just over a month. Our last one pinched things.”

“Please go on, Miss?Plenderleith.”

“I paid off the taxi, carried in my suitcase, looked round for Mrs.?P., couldn’t see her andwent upstairs to my room. I tidied up a bit then I went across to Barbara—Mrs.?Allen—and foundthe door locked. I rattled⁶ the handle and knocked but could get no reply. I came downstairs andrang up the police station.”

“Pardon!” Poirot interposed a quick, deft⁷ question. “It did not occur to you to try and breakdown⁸ the door—with the help of one of the chauffeurs⁹ in the mews, say?”

Her eyes turned to him—cool, grey-green eyes. Her glance seemed to sweep over himquickly and appraisingly¹⁰.

“No, I don’t think I thought of that. If anything was wrong, it seemed to me that the policewere the people to send for.”

“Then you thought—pardon, mademoiselle—that there was something wrong?”

“Naturally.”

“Because you could not get a reply to your knocks? But possibly your friend might havetaken a sleeping draught¹¹ or something of that kind—”

“She didn’t take sleeping draughts¹².”

The reply came sharply.

“Or she might have gone away and locked her door before going?”

“Why should she lock it? In any case she would have left a note for me.”

“And she did not—leave a note for you? You are quite sure of that?”

“Of course I am sure of it. I should have seen it at once.”

The sharpness of her tone was accentuated¹³.

Japp said:

“You didn’t try and look through the keyhole, Miss Plenderleith?”

“No,” said Jane Plenderleith thoughtfully. “I never thought of that. But I couldn’t have seenanything, could I? Because the key would have been in it?”

Her inquiring gaze, innocent, wide-eyed, met Japp’s. Poirot smiled suddenly to himself.

“You did quite right, of course, Miss?Plenderleith,” said Japp. “I suppose you’d no reason tobelieve that your friend was likely to commit suicide?”

“Oh, no.”

“She hadn’t seemed worried—or distressed¹⁴ in any way?”

There was a pause—an appreciable¹⁵ pause before the girl answered.

“No.”

“Did you know she had a pistol?”

Jane Plenderleith nodded.

“Yes, she had it out in India. She always kept it in a drawer in her room.”

“H’m. Got a licence for it?”

“I imagine so. I don’t know for certain.”

“Now, Miss?Plenderleith, will you tell me all you can about Mrs.?Allen, how long you’veknown her, where her relations are—everything in fact.”

Jane Plenderleith nodded.

“I’ve known Barbara about five years. I met her first travelling abroad—in Egypt to be exact.

She was on her way home from India. I’d been at the British School in Athens for a bit and washaving a few weeks in Egypt before going home. We were on a Nile cruise together. We madefriends, decided¹⁶ we liked each other. I was looking at the time for someone to share a flat or a tinyhouse with me. Barbara was alone in the world. We thought we’d get on well together.”

“And you did get on well together?” asked Poirot.

“Very well. We each had our own friends—Barbara was more social in her likings—myfriends were more of the artistic¹⁷ kind. It probably worked better that way.”

Poirot nodded. Japp went on:

“What do you know about Mrs.?Allen’s family and her life before she met you?”

Jane Plenderleith shrugged her shoulders.

“Not very much really. Her maiden¹⁸ name was Armitage, I believe.”

“Her husband?”

“I don’t fancy that he was anything to write home about. He drank, I think. I gather he died ayear or two after the marriage. There was one child, a little girl, which died when it was threeyears old. Barbara didn’t talk much about her husband. I believe she married him in India whenshe was about seventeen. Then they went off to Borneo or one of the godforsaken spots you sendne’er-do-wells to—but as it was obviously a painful subject I didn’t refer to it.”

“Do you know if Mrs.?Allen was in any financial difficulties?”

“No, I’m sure she wasn’t.”

“Not in debt—anything of that kind?”

“Oh, no! I’m sure she wasn’t in that kind of a jam.”

“Now there’s another question I must ask—and I hope you won’t be upset about it,Miss?Plenderleith. Had Mrs.?Allen any particular man friend or men friends?”

Jane Plenderleith answered coolly:

“Well, she was engaged to be married if that answers your question.”

“What is the name of the man she was engaged to?”

“Charles Laverton-West. He’s M.P. for some place in Hampshire.”

“Had she known him long?”

“A little over a year.”

“And she has been engaged to him—how long?”

“Two—no—nearer three months.”

“As far as you know there has not been any quarrel?”

Miss?Plenderleith shook her head.

“No. I should have been surprised if there had been anything of that sort. Barbara wasn’t thequarrelling kind.”

“How long is it since you last saw Mrs.?Allen?”

“Friday last, just before I went away for the weekend.”

“Mrs.?Allen was remaining in town?”

“Yes. She was going out with her fiancé on the Sunday, I believe.”

“And you yourself, where did you spend the weekend?”

“At Laidells Hall, Laidells, Essex.”

“And the name of the people with whom you were staying?”

“Mr.?and Mrs.?Bentinck.”

“You only left them this morning?”

“Yes.”

“You must have left very early?”

“Mr.?Bentinck motored me up. He starts early because he has to get to the city by ten.”

“I see.”

Japp nodded comprehendingly. Miss?Plenderleith’s replies had all been crisp and convincing.

Poirot in his turn put a question.

“What is your own opinion of Mr.?Laverton-West?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders.

“Does that matter?”

“No, it does not matter, perhaps, but I should like to have your opinion.”

“I don’t know that I’ve thought about him one way or the other. He’s young—not more thanthirty-one or two—ambitious—a good public speaker—means to get on in the world.”

“That is on the credit side—and on the debit¹⁹?”

“Well,” Miss?Plenderleith considered for a moment or two. “In my opinion he’scommonplace—his ideas are not particularly original—and he’s slightly pompous²⁰.”

“Those are not very serious faults, mademoiselle,” said Poirot, smiling.

“Don’t you think so?”

Her tone was slightly ironic²¹.

“They might be to you.”

He was watching her, saw her look a little disconcerted. He pursued his advantage.

“But to Mrs.?Allen—no, she would not notice them.”

“You’re perfectly²² right. Barbara thought he was wonderful—took him entirely²³ at his ownvaluation.”

Poirot said gently:

“You were fond of your friend?”

He saw the hand clench²⁴ on her knee, the tightening²⁵ of the line of the jaw²⁶, yet the answercame in a matter-of-fact voice free from emotion.

“You are quite right. I was.”

Japp said:

“Just one other thing, Miss?Plenderleith. You and she didn’t have a quarrel? There was noupset between you?”

“None whatever.”

“Not over this engagement business?”

“Certainly not. I was glad she was able to be so happy about it.”

There was a momentary²⁷ pause, then Japp said:

“As far as you know, did Mrs.?Allen have any enemies?”

This time there was a definite interval²⁸ before Jane Plenderleith replied. When she did so, hertone had altered very slightly.

“I don’t know quite what you mean by enemies?”

“Anyone, for instance, who would profit by her death?”

“Oh, no, that would be ridiculous. She had a very small income anyway.”

“And who inherits that income?”

Jame Plenderleith’s voice sounded mildly surprised as she said:

“Do you know, I really don’t know. I shouldn’t be surprised if I did. That is, if she ever madea will.”

“And no enemies in any other sense?” Japp slid off to another aspect quickly. “People with agrudge against her?”

“I don’t think anyone had a grudge²⁹ against her. She was a very gentle creature, alwaysanxious to please. She had a really sweet, lovable nature.”

For the first time that hard, matter-of-fact voice broke a little. Poirot nodded gently.

Japp said:

“So it amounts to this—Mrs.?Allen has been in good spirits lately, she wasn’t in any financialdifficulty, she was engaged to be married and was happy in her engagement. There was nothing inthe world to make her commit suicide. That’s right, isn’t it?”

There was a momentary silence before Jane said:

“Yes.”

Japp rose.

“Excuse me, I must have a word with Inspector Jameson.”

He left the room.

Hercule Poirot remained tête à tête with Jane Plenderleith.

 

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