We must go very, very carefully.”
XXIV Theresa’s Denial
we found Theresa Arundell just preparing to go out.
She was looking extraordinarily attractive.
A small hat of the most outrageous fashion descended rakishly over one eye. I recognized with momentary amusement that Bella Tanios had worn a cheap imitation of such a hat yesterday and had worn it–as George had put it–on the back of the head instead of over the right eye. I remembered well how she had pushed it further and further back on her untidy hair.
Poirot said politely: “Can I have just a minute or two, mademoiselle, or will it delay you too much?” Theresa laughed.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m always three quarters of an hour late for everything. I might just as well make it an hour.” She led him into the sitting-room. To my surprise Dr. Donaldson rose from a chair by the window.
“You’ve met M. Poirot already. Rex, haven’t you?” “We met at Market Basing,” said Donaldson stiffly.
“You were pretending to write the life of my drunken grandfather, I understand,” said Theresa. “Rex, my angel, will you leave us?” “Thank you, Theresa, but I think that from every point of view it would be advisable for me to be present at this interview.” There was a brief duel of eyes. Theresa’s were commanding. Donaldson’s were impervious.
She showed a quick flash of anger.
“All right, stay then, damn you!” Dr. Donaldson seemed unperturbed.
He seated himself again in the chair by the window, laying down his book on the arm of it. It was a book on the pituitary gland, I noticed.
Theresa sat down on her favourite low stool and looked impatiently at Poirot.
“Well, you’ve seen Purvis? What about it?
Poirot said in a non-committal voice: “There are–possibilities, mademoiselle.
She looked at him thoughtfully. Then she sent a very faint glance in the direction of the doctor. It was, I think, intended as a warning to Poirot.
“But it would be well, I think,” went on Poirot, “for me to report later when my plans are more advanced.” A faint smile showed for a minute on Theresa’s face.
Poirot continued: “I have to-day come from Market Basing and while there I have talked to Miss Lawson.
Tell me, mademoiselle, did you on the night of April 13th (that was the night of the Easter Bank Holiday) kneel upon the stairs after every one had gone to bed?” “My dear Hercule Poirot, what an extraordinary question. Why should I?” “The question, mademoiselle, is not why you should, but whether you did.” “I’m sure I don’t know. I should think it most unlikely.” “You comprehend, mademoiselle. Miss Lawson says you did.” Theresa shrugged her attractive shoulders.
“Does it matter?” “It matters very much.” She stared at him in a perfectly amiable fashion. Poirot stared back.
“Loopy!” said Theresa.
“Pardon?” “Definitely loopy!” said Theresa. “Don’t you think so. Rex?” Dr. Donaldson coughed.
“Excuse me, M. Poirot, but what is the point of the question?” My friend spread out his hands.
“It is most simple! Some one drove in a nail in a convenient position at the head of the stairs. The nail was just touched with brown varnish to match the skirting-board.” “Is this a new kind of witchcraft?” asked Theresa.
“No, mademoiselle, it is much more homely and simple than that. On the following evening, the Tuesday, some one attached a string or thread from the nail to the balusters with the result that when Miss Arundell came out of her room she caught her foot in it and went headlong down the stairs.” Theresa drew in her breath sharply.
“That was Bob’s ball!” “Pardon, it was not.” There was a pause. It was broken by Donaldson, who said in his quiet, precise voice: iJ “Excuse me, but what evidence have you in support of this statement?” Poirot said quietly: “The evidence of the nail, the evidence of Miss Arundell’s own written words, and finally the evidence of Miss Lawson’s eyes.” Theresa found her voice.
“She says I did it, does she?” Poirot did not answer except by bending his head a little.
“Well, it’s a lie! I had nothing to do with it!” “You were kneeling on the stairs for quite another reason?” “I wasn’t kneeling on the stairs at all!” “Be careful, mademoiselle.” “I wasn’t there! I never came out of my room after I went to bed on any evening I was there.” “Miss Lawson recognized you.” “It was probably Bella Tanios or one of the maids she saw.” “She says it was you.” “She’s a damned liar!” “She recognized your dressing gown and a brooch you wear.” “A brooch–what brooch?” “A brooch with your initials.” “Oh, I know the one! What a circumstantial liar she is!” “You still deny that it was you she saw?” “If it’s my word against hers–” “You are a better liar than she is–eh?” Theresa said calmly: “That’s probably quite true. But in this case I’m speaking the truth. I wasn’t preparing a booby trap, or saying my prayers, or picking up gold or silver, or doing anything at all on the stairs.” “Have you this brooch that was mentioned?”