Three Act Tragedy (Hercule Poirot 11)

“She was a patient in his Home. Suffering from nervous breakdown and loss of memory.”

“He mentioned a case of lost memory,” said Miss Wills. “He said you could hypnotize a person and bring their memory back.”

“Did he, now? I wonder—could that be significant?”

Sir Charles frowned and remained lost i

n thought. Miss Wills said nothing.

“There’s nothing else you could tell me? Nothing about any of the guests?”

It seemed to him there was just the slightest pause before Miss Wills answered.

“No.”

“About Mrs. Dacres? Or Captain Dacres? Or Miss Sutcliffe? Or Mr. Manders?”

He watched her very intently as he pronounced each name.

Once he thought he saw the pince-nez flicker, but he could not be sure.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can tell you, Sir Charles.”

“Oh, well!” He stood up. “Satterthwaite will be disappointed.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Miss Wills primly.

“I’m sorry, too, for disturbing you. I expect you were busy writing.”

“I was, as a matter of fact.”

“Another play?”

“Yes. To tell you the truth, I thought of using some of the characters at the house party at Melfort Abbey.”

“What about libel?”

“That’s quite all right, Sir Charles, I find people never recognize themselves.” She giggled. “Not if, as you said just now, one is really merciless.”

“You mean,” said Sir Charles, “that we all have an exaggerated idea of our own personalities and don’t recognize the truth if it’s sufficiently brutally portrayed. I was quite right, Miss Wills, you are a cruel woman.”

Miss Wills tittered.

“You needn’t be afraid, Sir Charles. Women aren’t usually cruel to men—unless it’s some particular man—they’re only cruel to other women.”

“Meaning you’ve got your analytical knife into some unfortunate female. Which one? Well, perhaps I can guess. Cynthia’s not beloved by her own sex.”

Miss Wills said nothing. She continued to smile—rather a catlike smile.

“Do you write your stuff or dictate it?”

“Oh, I write it and send it to be typed.”

“You ought to have a secretary.”

“Perhaps. Have you still got that clever Miss—Miss Milray, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I’ve got Miss Milray. She went away for a time to look after her mother in the country, but she’s back again now. Most efficient woman.”