“Now you drink this,” said Mrs. Hubbard. “And you’ll feel better.” ,eaGestapo!” said Mrs. Nicoletis who was now quiet but sullen. disI shouldn’t think any more about it If I were you,” saiggf Mrs. Hubbard soothingly.
“Gestapo!” said Mrs. Nicoletis again.
“Gestapol That is what they are!” “They have to do their duty, you know,” said Mrs.
Hubbard.
“Is it their duty to pry into my private cupboards? say to them, ‘That is not for you.” I lock it.
I put the key down my bosom. If you had not been there as a witness they would have torn my clothes off me without shame.” “Oh no, I don’t think they would have done that,” said Mrs. Hubbard.
“That is what you say! Instead they get a chisel and they force my door. That is structural damage to the house for which I shall be responsible.” “Well, you see, if you wouldn’t give them the key …” “Why should I give them the key? It was my key.
My private key. And this is my private room. My private room and I say to the police, ‘Keep out” and they do not keep out.” “Well, after all, Mrs. Nicoletis, there has been a murder, remember. And after a murder one has to put up with certain things which might not be very pldasant at ordinary times.” “I spit upon the murder!” said Mrs.
Nicoletis. “That little Celia she commits suicide. She has a silly love affair and she takes poison. It is the sort of thing that is always happening. They are so stupid about love, these girls-as though love mattered! One year, two years and it is all fccLnished, the grand passion!
The man is the same as any other man! But com^the silly girls they do not know that. They take the sleeping draught and the disinfectant and they turn on gas taps and then it is too late.” “Well,” said Mrs. Hubbard, returning fun circle, as it were, to where the conversation had started, “I shouldn’t worry any more about it all now.” “That is all very well for you. Me, I have to worry. It is not safe for me any longer.” “Safe?” Mrs. Hubbard looked at her, startled.
“It was my private cupboard,” Mrs.
Nicoletis insisted. “Nobody knows what was in my private cupboard. I did not want them to know. And now they do know. I am very uneasy. They may think-what will they think?” “Who do you mean by they?” Mrs. Nicoletis shrugged her large, handsome shoulders and looked sulky.
“You do not understand,” she said, “but it makes me uneasy. Very uneasy.” “You’d better tell me,” said Mrs. Hubbard.
“Then perhaps I can help you.” “Thank goodness I do not sleep here,” said Mrs.
Nicoletis. “These locks on the doors here they are all alike; one key fits any other. No, thanks to heaven, I do not sleep here.” Mrs. Hubbard said, “Mrs. Nicoletis, if you are afraid of something, hadn’t you better tell me just what it is?” Mrs. Nicoletis gave her a flickering look from her dark eyes and then looked away again.
“You have said it yourself,” she said evasively. “You have said there has been murder in this house, so naturally one is uneasy. Who may be next?
One does not even know who the murderer is. That is because the police are so stupid, or perhaps they have been bribed.” “That’s all nonsense and you know it,” said Mrs.
Hubbard. “But tell me, have you got any cause for real anxiety . . .” Mrs. Nicoletis flew into one of her tempers.
“Ah, you do not think I have any cause for anxiety?
You know best as usual. You know everything! You are so wonderful, you cater, you manage, you spend money like water on food so that the students are fond of you, and now you want to manage my affairs! But that, no!
I keep my all airs to myself and nobody shall pry into them, do you hear? No, Mrs. What-do you-call-it Paul Pry.” “Please yourself,” said Mrs. Hubbard, exasperated.
“You are a spy-I always knew it.” “A spy on what?” “Nothing,” said Mrs. Nicoletis. “There is nothing here to spy upop. If you think there is it is because you made it up. If lies are told about me I shall know who told them.” “If you wish me to leave,” said Mrs. Hubbard, “you’ve only got to say so.” “No, you are not to leave. I forbid it. Not at this moment. Not when I have all the cares of the police, of murder, of everything else on my hands. I shall not allow you to abandon me.” “Oh, all right,” said Mrs. Hubbard helplessly. “But really, it’s very difficult to know what you do want. Sometimes I don’t think you know yourself. You’d better lie down on my bed and have a sleep-was HERCULE POIROT ALIGHTED from a taxi at 26 Hickory Road.