‘No.’
‘In fact nobody did except Mrs Leidner?’
‘Father Lavigny saw a light in the antika-room.’
‘Yes, I have not forgotten that.’
He was silent for a minute or two, then he said: ‘Had your wife made a will?’
‘I do not think so.’
‘Why was that?’
‘It did not seem worth it from her point of view.’
‘Is she not a wealthy woman?’
‘Yes, during her lifetime. Her father left her a considerable sum of money in trust. She could not touch the principal. At her death it was to pass to any children she might have—and failing children to the Pittstown Museum.’
Poirot drummed thoughtfully on the table.
‘Then we can, I think,’ he said, ‘eliminate one motive from the case. It is, you comprehend, what I look for first. Who benefits by the deceased’s death? In this case it is a museum. Had it been otherwise, had Mrs Leidner died intestate but possessed of a considerable fortune, I should imagine that it would prove an interesting question as to who inherited the money—you—or a former husband. But there would have been this difficulty, the former husband would have had to resurrect himself in order to claim it, and I should imagine that he would then be in danger of arrest, though I hardly fancy that the death penalty would be exacted so long after the war. However, these speculations need not arise. As I say, I settle first the question of money. For the next step I proceed always to suspect the husband or wife of the deceased! In this case, in the first place, you are proved never to have gone near your wife’s room yesterday afternoon, in the second place you lose instead of gain by your wife’s death, and in the third place—’
He paused.
‘Yes?’ said Dr Leidner.
‘In the third place,’ said Poirot slowly, ‘I can, I think, appreciate devotion when I see it. I believe, Dr Leidner, that your love for your wife was the ruling passion of your life. It is so, is it not?’
Dr Leidner answered quite simply: ‘Yes.’
Poirot nodded.
‘Therefore,’ he said, ‘we can proceed.’
‘Hear, hear, let’s get down to it,’ said Dr Reilly with some impatience.
Poirot gave him a reproving glance.
‘My friend, do not be impatient. In a case like this everything must be approached with order and method. In fact, that is my rule in every case. Having disposed of certain possibilities, we now approach a very important point. It is vital that, as you say—all the cards should be on the table—there must be nothing kept back.’
‘Quite so,’ said Dr Reilly.
‘That is why I demand the whole truth,’ went on Poirot.
Dr Leidner looked at him in surprise.
‘I assure you, M. Poirot, that I have kept nothing back. I have told you everything that I know. There have been no reserves.’
‘Tout de même, you have not told me everything.’
‘Yes, indeed. I cannot think of any detail that has escaped me.’
He looked quite distressed.
Poirot shook his head gently.
‘No,’ he said. ‘You have not told me, for instance, why you installed Nurse Leatheran in the house.’
Dr Leidner looked completely bewildered.
‘But I have explained that. It is obvious. My wife’s nervousness—her fears…’
Poirot leaned forward. Slowly and emphatically he wagged a finger up and down.
‘No, no, no. There is something there that is not clear. Your wife is in danger, yes—she is threatened with death, yes. You send—not for the police—not for a private detective even—but for a nurse! It does not make the sense, that!’
‘I—I—’ Dr Leidner stopped. The colour rose in his cheeks. ‘I thought—’ He came to a dead stop.
‘Now we are coming to it,’ Poirot encouraged him. ‘You thought—what?’
Dr Leidner remained silent. He looked harassed and unwilling.
‘See you,’ Poirot’s tone became winning and appealing, ‘it all rings what you have told me, except for that. Why a nurse? There is an answer—yes. In fact, there can be only one answer. You did not believe yourself in your wife’s danger.’
And then with a cry Dr Leidner broke down.
‘God help me,’ he groaned. ‘I didn’t. I didn’t.’