Lord Edgware Dies

‘Ready,’ she said abruptly.

Five minutes afterwards we were sitting in a small restaurant in Dover Street. Poirot had given an order to the waiter and cocktails were in front of us.

‘Now,’ said Jenny Driver. ‘I want to know the meaning of all this. What has Carlotta been getting herself mixed up in?’

‘She had been getting herself mixed up in something, then, Mademoiselle?’

‘Now then, who is going to ask the questions, you or me?’

‘My idea was that I should,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘I have been given to understand that you and Miss Adams were great friends.’

‘Right.’

‘Eh bien, then I ask you, Mademoiselle, to accept my solemn assurance that what I do, I am doing in the interests of your dead friend. I assure you that that is so.’

There was a moment’s silence while Jenny Driver considered this question. Finally she gave a quick assenting nod of the head.

‘I believe you. Carry on. What do you want to know?’

‘I understand, Mademoiselle, that your friend lunched with you yesterday.’

‘She did.’

‘Did she tell you what her plans were for last night?’

‘She didn’t exactly mention last night.’

‘But she said something?’

‘Well, she mentioned something that maybe is what you’re driving at. Mind you, she spoke in confidence.’

‘That is understood.’

‘Well, let me see now. I think I’d better explain things in my own words.’

‘If you please, Mademoiselle.’

‘Well, then, Carlotta was excited. She isn’t often excited. She’s not that kind. She wouldn’t tell me anything definite, said she’d promised not to, but she’d got something on. Something I gathered, in the nature of a gigantic hoax.’

‘A hoax?’

‘That’s what she said. She didn’t say how or when or where. Only—’ She paused, frowning. ‘Well—you see—Carlotta’s not the kind of person who enjoys practical jokes or hoaxes or things of that kind. She’s one of those serious, nice-minded, hard-working girls. What I mean is, somebody had obviously put her up to this stunt. And I think—she didn’t say so, mind—’

‘No, no, I quite understand. What was it that you thought?’

‘I thought—I was sure—that in some way money was concerned. Nothing really ever excited Carlotta except money. She was made that way. She’d got one of the best heads for business I’ve ever met. She wouldn’t have been so excited and so pleased unless money—quite a lot of money—had been concerned. My impression was that she’d taken on something for a bet—and that she was pretty sure of winning. And yet that isn’t quite true. I mean, Carlotta didn’t bet. I’ve never known her make a bet. But anyway, somehow or other, I’m sure money was concerned.’

‘She did not actually say so?’

‘N-no-o. Just said that she’d be able to do this, that and the other in the near future. She was going to get her sister over from America to meet her in Paris. She was crazy about her little sister. Very delicate, I believe, and musical. Well that’s all I know. Is that what you want?’

Poirot nodded his head.

‘Yes. It confirms my theory. I had hoped, I admit, for more. I had anticipated that Miss Adams would have been bound to secrecy. But I hoped that, being a woman, she would not have counted revealing the secret to her best friend.’

‘I tried to make her tell me,’ admitted Jenny. ‘But she only laughed and said she’d tell me about it some day.’

Poirot was silent for a moment. Then he said:

‘You know the name of Lord Edgware?’

‘What? The man who was murdered? On a poster half an hour ago.’

‘Yes. Do you know if Miss Adams was acquainted with him?’

‘I don’t think so. I’m sure she wasn’t. Oh! wait a minute.’

‘Yes, Mademoiselle?’ said Poirot eagerly.

‘What was it now?’ She frowned, knitting her brow as she tried to remember. ‘Yes, I’ve got it now. She mentioned him once. Very bitterly.’

‘Bitterly?’

‘Yes. She said—what was it?—that men like that shouldn’t be allowed to ruin other people’s lives by their cruelty and lack of understanding. She said—why, so she did—that he was the kind of man whose death would probably be a good thing for everybody.’

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