The presence of her husband seemed to make Mrs. Tanios nervous. Stammering a little, she introduced Poirot to him. Me, she ignored.
Dr. Tanios took up the name sharply.
“Poirot? Monsieur Hercule Poirot? But I know that name well! And what brings you to us, M. Poirot?” “It is the affair of a lady lately deceased.
Miss Emily Arundell,” replied Poirot.
“My wife’s aunt? Yes–what of her?” Poirot said slowly: “Certain matters have arisen in connection with her death–” Mrs. Tanios broke in suddenly: “It’s about the will, Jacob. M. Poirot has been conferring with Theresa and Charles.” Some of the tensity went out of Dr. Tamos’s attitude. He dropped into a chair.
“Ah, the will! An iniquitous will–but there, it is not my business, I suppose.” Poirot sketched an account of his interview with the two Arundells (hardly a truthful one, I may say) and cautiously hinted at a fighting chance of upsetting the will.
“You interest me, M. Poirot, very much.
I may say I am of your opinion. Something could be done. I actually went as far as to consult a lawyer on the subject, but his advice was not encouraging. Therefore–” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Lawyers, as I have told your wife, are cautious people. They do not like taking chances. But me, I am different! And you?” Dr. Tanios laughed–a rich, rollicking laugh.
“Oh, I’d take a chance all right! Often have, haven’t I, Bella, old girl?” He smiled across at her, and she smiled back at him– but in a rather mechanical manner, I thought.
He turned his attention back to Poirot.
“I am not a lawyer,” he said. “But in my opinion it is perfectly clear that that will was made when the old lady was not responsible for what she was doing. That Lawson woman is both clever and cunning.” Mrs. Tanios moved uneasily. Poirot looked at her quickly.
“You do not agree, madame?” She said rather weakly: “She has always been very kind. I shouldn’t call her clever.” “She’s been kind to you,” said Dr. Tanios, “because she had nothing to fear from you, my dear Bella. You’re easily taken in!” He spoke quite good-humouredly, but his wife flushed.
“With me it was different,” he went on.
“She didn’t like me. And she made no bones about showing it! I’ll give you an instance.
The old lady had a fall down the stairs when we were staying there. I insisted on coming back the following week-end to see how she was. Miss Lawson did her utmost to prevent us. She didn’t succeed, but she was annoyed about it, I could see. The reason was clear. She wanted the old lady to herself.” Again Poirot turned to the wife.
“You agree, madame?” Her husband did not give her time to answer.
“Bella’s too kind-hearted,” he said. “You won’t get her to impute bad motives to anybody.
But I’m quite sure I was right. I’ll tell you another thing, M. Poirot. The secret of her ascendency over old Miss Arundell was spiritualism! That’s how it was done, depend upon it!” “You think so?” “Sure of it, my dear fellow. I’ve seen a lot of that sort of thing. It gets hold of people.
You’d be amazed! Especially any one of Miss Arundell’s age. I’d be prepared to bet that that’s how the suggestion came. Some spirit—possibly her dead father—ordered her to alter her will and leave her money to the Lawson woman. She was in bad health —credulous—” There was a very faint movement from Mrs. Tanios. Poirot turned to her.
“You think it possible—yes?” “Speak up, Bella,” said Dr. Tanios. “Tell us your views.” He looked at her encouragingly. Her quick look back at him was an odd one. She hesitated, then said: “I know so little about these things. I dare say you’re right, Jacob.” “Depend upon it I’m all right, eh, M.
Poirot?” Poirot nodded his head.
“It may be—yes.” Then he said, “You were down at Market Basing, I think, the week-end before Miss Arundell’s death?” “We were down at Easter and again the week-end after—that is right.” “No, no, I meant the week-end after that—on the 26th. You were there on the Sunday, I think?” “Oh, Jacob, were you?” Mrs. Tanios looked at him wide-eyed.