Poirot only smiled.
Chapter 6
The Widow
Bryan Martin was as good as his word. In less than ten minutes he had joined us. During the time that we waited his arrival, Poirot would only talk of extraneous subjects and refused to satisfy Japp’s curiosity in the smallest degree.
Evidently our news had upset the young actor terribly. His face was white and drawn.
‘Good heavens, M. Poirot,’ he said as he shook hands. ‘This is a terrible business. I’m shocked to the core—and yet I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve always half-suspected that something of this kind might happen. You may remember I was saying so yesterday.’
‘Maisoui, mais oui,’ said Poirot. ‘I remember perfectly what you said to me yesterday. Let me introduce you to Inspector Japp who is in charge of the case.’
Bryan Martin shot a glance of reproach at Poirot.
‘I had no idea,’ he murmured. ‘You should have warned me.’
He nodded coldly to the inspector.
He sat down, his lips pressed tightly together.
‘I don’t see,’ he objected, ‘why you asked me to come round. All this has nothing to do with me.’
‘I think it has,’ said Poirot gently. ‘In a case of murder one must put one’s private repugnancies behind one.’
‘No, no. I’ve acted with Jane. I know her well. Dash it all, she’s a friend of mine.’
‘And yet the moment that you hear Lord Edgware is murdered, you jump to the conclusion that it is she who has murdered him,’ remarked Poirot dryly.
The actor started.
‘Do you mean to say—?’ His eyes seemed starting out of his head. ‘Do you mean to say that I’m wrong? That she had nothing to do with it?’
Japp broke in.
‘No, no, Mr Martin. She did it right enough.’
The young man sank back again in his chair.
‘For a moment,’ he murmured, ‘I thought I’d made the most ghastly mistake.’
‘In a matter of this kind friendship must not be allowed to influence you,’ said Poirot decisively.
‘That’s all very well, but—’
‘My friend, do you seriously wish to range yourself on the side of a woman who has murdered? Murder—the most repugnant of human crimes.’
Bryan Martin sighed.
‘You don’t understand. Jane is not an ordinary murderess. She—she has no sense of right or wrong. Honestly she’s not responsible.’
‘That’ll be a question for the jury,’ said Japp.
‘Come, come,’ said Poirot kindly. ‘It is not as though you were accusing her. She is already accused. You cannot refuse to tell us what you know. You have a duty to society, young man.’
Bryan Martin sighed.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘What do you want me to tell you?’
Poirot looked at Japp.
‘Have you ever heard Lady Edgware—or perhaps I’d better call her Miss Wilkinson—utter threats against her husband?’ asked Japp.
‘Yes, several times.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said that if he didn’t give her her freedom she’d have to “bump him off”.’
‘And that was not a joke, eh?’
‘No. I think she meant it seriously. Once she said she’d take a taxi and go round and kill him—you heard that, M. Poirot?’
He appealed pathetically to my friend.
Poirot nodded.
Japp went on with his questions.
‘Now, Mr Martin, we’ve been informed that she wanted her freedom in order to marry another man. Do you know who that man was?’
Bryan nodded.
‘Who?’
‘It was—the Duke of Merton.’
‘The Duke of Merton! Whew!’ The detective whistled. ‘Flying at high game, eh? Why, he’s said to be one of the richest men in England.’
Bryan nodded more dejectedly than ever.
I could not quite understand Poirot’s attitude. He was lying back in his chair, his fingers pressed together and the rhythmic motion of his head suggested the complete approval of a man who has put a chosen record on the gramophone and is enjoying the result.
‘Wouldn’t her husband divorce her?’
‘No, he refused absolutely.’
‘You know that for a fact?’
‘Yes.’
‘And now,’ said Poirot, suddenly taking part once more in the proceedings, ‘you see where I come in, my good Japp. I was asked by Lady Edgware to see her husband and try and get him to agree to a divorce. I had an appointment for this morning.’