“And you knew nothing of this?” Before she could answer, Charles broke in: “Theresa, old girl, I’m sure I told you– or hinted to you.” There was a queer sort of pause. Charles was looking fixedly at Theresa, and there was an anxiety, a fixity, about his gaze that seemed out of all proportion to the subject matter.
Theresa said slowly: “If you had told me–I don’t think I could have forgotten, do you, M. Poirot?” Her long, dark eyes turned to him.
Poirot said slowly: “No, I don’t think you could have forgotten, Miss Arundell.” Then he turned sharply to Charles.
“Let me be quite clear on one point. Did Miss Arundell tell you she was about to alter her will, or did she tell you specifically that she had altered it?” Charles said quickly: “Oh, she was quite definite. As a matter of fact, she showed me the will.” Poirot leaned forward. His eyes opened wide.
“This is very important. You say that Miss Arundell actually showed you the will?” Charles gave a sudden schoolboy wriggle –a rather disarming action. Poirot’s gravity made him quite uncomfortable.
“Yes,” he said. “She showed it to me.” “You can swear definitely to that?” “Of course I can.” Charles looked nervously at Poirot. “I don’t see what is so significant about that.” There was a sudden brusque movement from Theresa. She had risen and was standing by the mantelpiece. She quickly lit another cigarette.
“And you, mademoiselle?” Poirot whirled suddenly round on her. “Did your aunt say nothing of importance to you during that weekend?” “I don’t think so. She was–quite amiable.
That is, as amiable as she usually was.
Lectured me a bit about my way of life and all that. But then, she always did. She seemed perhaps a bit more jumpy than usual.” Poirot said, smiling: “I suppose, mademoiselle, that you were more taken up with your fiance?” Theresa said sharply: “He wasn’t there. He was away, he’d gone to some medical congress.” “You had not seen him then since the Easter week-end? Was that the last time you had seen him?” “Yes–on the evening before we left he came to dinner.” “You had not–excuse me–had any quarrel with him then?” “Certainly not.” “I only thought, seeing that he was away on your second visit–” Charles broke in: “Ah, but you see, that second weekend was rather unpremeditated. We went down on the spur of the moment.” “Really?” “Oh, let’s have the truth,” said Theresa wearily. “You see, Bella and her husband were down the week-end before–fussing over Aunt Emily because of her accident.
We thought they might steal a march on us–” “We thought,” said Charles with a grin, “that we’d better show a little concern for Aunt Emily’s health too. Really, though, the old lady was much too sharp to be taken in by the dutiful attention stunt. She knew very well how much it was worth. No fool. Aunt Emily.” Theresa laughed suddenly.
“It’s a pretty story, isn’t it? All of us with our tongues hanging out for money.” “Was that the case with your cousin and her husband?” “Oh, yes, Bella’s always hard up. Rather pathetic the way she tries to copy all my clothes at about an eighth of the price. Tanios speculated with her money, I believe.
They’re hard put to it to make both ends meet. They’ve got two children and want to educate them in England.” “Can you perhaps give me their address?” said Poirot.
“They’re staying at the Durham Hotel in Bloomsbury.” “What is she like, your cousin?” “Bella? Well, she’s a dreary woman. Eh, Charles?” “Oh, definitely a dreary woman. Rather like an earwig. She’s a devoted mother. So are earwigs, I believe.” “And her husband?” “Tanios? Well, he looks a bit odd, but he’s really a thoroughly nice fellow. Clever, amusing and a thoroughly good sport.” “You agree, mademoiselle?” “Well, I must admit I prefer him to Bella.
He’s a damned clever doctor, I believe. All the same, I wouldn’t trust him very far.” “Theresa,” said Charles, “doesn’t trust anybody.” He put an arm round her.
“She doesn’t trust me.” “Any one who trusted you, my sweet, would be mentally deficient,” said Theresa kindly.