Poirot was staring at her in a way I found it hard to understand.
“Permit me,” he said suddenly, “to make an experiment. Let us go upstairs and endeavour to reconstruct this little scene.” “Reconstruct? Oh, really–I don’t know –I mean I don’t quite see–” “I will show you,” said Poirot, cutting in upon these doubts in an authoritative manner.
Somewhat flustered. Miss Lawson led the way upstairs.
“I hope the room’s tidy–so much to do –what with one thing and another–” She tailed off incoherently.
The room was indeed somewhat heavily littered with miscellaneous articles, obviously the result of Miss Lawson’s turning out of cupboards. With her usual incoherence Miss Lawson managed to indicate her own position and Poirot was able to verify for himself the fact that a portion of the staircase was reflected in the wall-mirror.
“And now, mademoiselle,” he suggested, “if you will be so good as to go out and reproduce the actions that you saw.” Miss Lawson, still murmuring, “Oh, dear–” bustled out to fulfill her part. Poirot acted the part of observer.
The performance concluded, he went out on the landing and asked which electric light had been left switched on.
“This one–this one along here. Just outside Miss ArundelFs door.” Poirot reached up, detached the bulb and examined it.
“A forty watt lamp, I see. Not very powerful.”
“No, it was just so that the passage shouldn’t be quite dark.” Poirot retraced his steps to the top of the stairs.
“You will pardon me, mademoiselle, but with the light being fairly dim and the way that shadow falls it is hardly possible that you can have seen very clearly. Can you be positive it was Miss Theresa Arundell and not just an indeterminate female figure in a dressing gown?” Miss Lawson was indignant.
“No, indeed, M. Poirot! I’m perfectly sure!
I know Theresa well enough, I should hope!
Oh, it was her all right. Her dark dressing gown and that big shining brooch she wears with the initials–I saw that plainly.” “So that there is no possible doubt. You saw the initials?” “Yes, T. A. I know the brooch. Theresa often wore it. Oh, yes, I could swear to its being Theresa–and I will swear to it if necessary!”
There was a firmness and decision in those last two sentences that was quite at variance with her usual manner.
Poirot looked at her. Again there was something curious in his glance. It was aloof, appraising–and had also a queer appearance of finality about it.
“You would swear to that, yes?” he said.
“If–if–it’s necessary. But I suppose it –will it be necessary?” Again Poirot turned that appraising glance upon her.
“That will depend on the result of the exhumation,” he said.
“Ex-exhumation?” Poirot put out a restraining hand. In her excitement Miss Lawson very nearly went headlong down the stairs.
“It may possibly be a question of exhumation,” he said.
“Oh, but surely–how very unpleasant!
But I mean, I’m sure the family would oppose the idea very strongly–very strongly indeed.” “Probably they will.” “I’m quite sure they won’t hear of such a thing!” “Ah, but if it is as an order from the Home Office.” “But, M. Poirot—why? I mean it’s not as though—not as though—” “Not as though what?” “Not as though there were anything— wrong.” “You think not?” “No, of course not. Why, there couldn’t be! I mean the doctor and the nurse and everything—” “Do not upset yourself,” said Poirot calmly and soothingly.
“Oh, but I can’t help it! Poor dear Miss Arundell! It’s not even as though Theresa had been here in the house when she died.” “No, she left on the Monday before she was taken ill, did she not?” “Quite early in the morning. So you see, she can’t have had anything to do with it!” “Let us hope not,” said Poirot.
“Oh, dear.” Miss Lawson clasped her hands together. “I’ve never known anything so dreadful as all this! Really, I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels.” Poirot glanced at his watch.
“We must depart. We are returning to London. And you, mademoiselle, you are remaining down here some little time?” “No–no… I have really no settled plans. Actually I’m going back myself today.