“That–er–is hardly the case, I fear.” “The relations have behaved disgracefully to poor Minnie,” said Isabel. Her face flushed with indignation.
“Minnie is the most unworldly soul,” chimed in Julia.
“People have gone about saying the unkindest things–that she schemed for this money to be left her!” “When really it was the greatest surprise to her–” “She could hardly believe her ears when the lawyer read the will–” “She told us so herself. (Julia,? she said to me. ‘My dear, you could have knocked me over with a feather. Just a few bequests to the servants and then Littlegreen House and the residue of my estate to Wilhelmina Lawson.5 She was so flabbergasted she could hardly speak. And when she could she asked how much it would be–thinking perhaps it would be a few thousand pounds–and Mr.
Purvis, after humming and hawing and talking about confusing things like gross and net personalities, said it would be in the neighborhood of three hundred and seventy-five thousand pounds. Poor Minnie nearly fainted, she told us.” “She had no idea,” the other sister reiterated.
“She never thought of such a thing happening!” “That is what she told you, yes?” “Oh 5 yes, she repeated it several times.
And that’s what makes it so wicked of the Arundell family to go on as they have done –cold-shouldering her and treating her with suspicion. After all, this is a free country–” “English people seem to labour under that misapprehension,” murmured Poirot.
“And I should hope any one can leave their money exactly as they choose! I think Miss Arundell acted very wisely. Obviously she mistrusted her own relatives and I dare say she had her reasons.” “Ah?” Poirot leant forward with interest.
“Indeed?” This flattering attention encouraged Isabel to proceed.
“Yes, indeed. Mr. Charles Arundell, her nephew, is a thoroughly bad lot. That’s well known! I believe he’s even wanted by the police in some foreign country. Not at all a desirable character. As for his sister, well, I’ve not actually spoken to her, but she’s a very queer-looking girl. Ultra modern, of course, and terribly made-up. Really, the sight of her mouth made me quite ill. It looked like blood. And I rather suspect she takes drugs–her manner was so odd sometimes.
She’s by way of being engaged to that nice young Dr. Donaldson, but I fancy even he looked a little disgusted sometimes. Of course, she is attractive in her way, but I hope that he will come to his senses in time and marry some nice English girl who is fond of country life and outdoor pursuits.” “And the other relations?” “Well, there you are again. Very undesirable.
Not that I’ve anything to say against Mrs. Tanios–she’s quite a nice woman– but absolutely stupid and completely under her husband’s thumb. Of course, he’s really a Turk, I believe–rather dreadful for an English girl to marry a Turk, I think, don’t you? It shows a certain lack offastidiousness. Of course, Mrs. Tanios is a very good mother, though the children are singularly unattractive, poor little things.” “So altogether you think Miss Lawson was a more worthy recipient of Miss Arundell’s fortune?” Julia said serenely: “Minnie Lawson is a thoroughly good woman. And so unworldly. It isn’t as though she had ever thought about money. She was never grasping.” “Still, she has never thought of refusing to accept the legacy?” Isabel drew back a little.
“Oh, well—one would hardly do that.” Poirot smiled.
“No, perhaps not….” “You see, Mr. Parrot,” put in Julia, “she regards it as a trust—a sacred trust.” “And she is quite willing to do something for Mrs. Tanios or for the Tanios children,” went on Isabel. “Only she doesn’t want him to get hold of it.” “She even said she would consider making Theresa an allowance.” “And that, I think, was very generous of her—considering the off-hand way that girl has always treated her.” “Indeed, Mr. Parrot, Minnie is the most generous of creatures. But there now, you know her, of course!” “Yes,” said Poirot. “I know her. But I still do not know—her address.” “Of course! How stupid of me! Shall I write it down for you?” “I can write it down.” Poirot produced the invariable notebook.