“Very far from that, sir. Very far indeed.
Every one was surprised at the amount the old lady lefL^The will was in the paper and the amount and everything. It seems she hadn’t lived up to her income for many a long year. Something like three or four hundred thousand pounds she left.” “You astonish me,” cried Poirot. “It is like a fairy tale–eh? The poor companion suddenly becomes unbelievably wealthy. Is she still young, this Miss Lawson? Can she enjoy her new-found wealth?” “Oh, no, sir, she’s a middle-aged person, sir.” His enunciation of the word “person” was quite an artistic performance. It was clear that Miss Lawson, ex-companion, had cut no kind of a figure in Market Basing.
“It must have been disappointing for the nephews and nieces,” mused Poirot.
“Yes, sir, I believe it came as somewhat of a shock to them. Very unexpected.
There’s been feeling over it here in Market Basing. There are those who hold it isn’t right to leave things away from your own flesh and blood. But, of course, there’s others as hold that every one’s got a right to do as they like with their own. There’s something to be said for both points of view, of course.” “Miss Arundell had lived for many years here, had she not?” “Yes, sir. She and her sisters and old General Arundell, their father, before them. Not that I remember him, naturally, but I believe he was quite a character. Was in the Indian Mutiny.” “There were several daughters?” “Three of them that I remember, and I believe there was one that married. Yes, Miss Matilda, Miss Agnes, and Miss Emily.
Miss Matilda, she died first, and then Miss Agnes, and finally Miss Emily.” “That was quite recently?” “Beginning of May–or it may have been the end of April.” “Had she been ill some time?” “On and off–on and off. She was on the sickly side. Nearly went off a year ago with that there jaundice. Yellow as an orange she was for some time after. Yes, she’d had poor health for the last five years of her life.” “I suppose you have some good doctors down here?” “Well, there’s Dr. Grainger. Been here close on forty years, he has, and folks mostly go to him. He’s a bit crotchety and he has his fancies, but he’s a good doctor, none better. He’s got a young partner. Dr. Donaldson.
He’s more the new-fangled kind.
Some folk prefer him. Then, of course, there’s Dr. Harding, but he doesn’t do much.” “Dr. Grainger was Miss Arundell’s doctor, I suppose?” “Oh, yes. He’d pulled her through many a bad turn. He’s the kind that fair bullies you into living whether you want to or not.” Poirot nodded.
“One should learn a little about a place before one comes to settle in it,” he remarked.
“A good doctor is one of the most important people.” “That’s very true, sir.” Poirot then asked for his bill to which he added a substantial tip.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you very much, sir. I’m sure I hope you’ll settle here, sir.” “I hope so too,” said Poirot mendaciously.
We set forth from The George.
“Satisfied yet, Poirot?” I asked as we emerged into the street.
“Not in the least, my friend.” He turned in an unexpected direction.
“Where are you off to now, Poirot?” “The church, my friend. It may be interesting.
Some brasses–an old monument.” I shook my head doubtfully.
Poirofs scrutiny of the interior of the church was brief. Though an attractive specimen of what the guidebook calls Early Perp.
it had been so conscientiously restored in Victorian vandal days that little of interest remained.
Poirot next wandered seemingly aimlessly about the churchyard reading some of the epitaphs, commenting on the number of deaths in certain families, occasionally exclaiming over the quaintness of a name.
I was not surprised, however, when he finally halted before what I was pretty sure had been his objective from the beginning.
An imposing marble slab bore a partly effaced inscription: sacred TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN LAVERTON ARUNDELL GENERAL 24TH SIKHS WHO FELL ASLEEP IN CHRIST MAY 19, 1888 AGED 69 FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT WITH ALL THY MIGHT” ALSO OF MATILDA ARM ARUNDELL DIED MARCH 10, 1912 “I WILL ARISE AND GO UNTO MY FATHER” ALSO OF AGNES GEORGINA MARY ARUNDELL DIED NOVEMBER 20 1921 ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE” Then came a brand-new piece of lettering, evidently just done: also of EMILY HARRIET LAVERTON ARUNDELL DIED MAY 1, 1936 “THY WILL BE DONE” Poirot stood looking for some time.