Death in the Clouds (Hercule Poirot 12)

‘I’d like to know, Cicely, just exactly what is behind this idea of coming down here.’

Lady Horbury shrugged her slender, beautiful shoulders.

‘After all, why not?’

‘Why not? It seems to me there are a good many reasons.’

His wife murmured, ‘Oh, reasons…’

‘Yes, reasons. You’ll remember that we agreed that as things were between us, it would be as well to give up this farce of living together. You were to have the town house and a generous—an extremely generous—allowance. Within certain limits you were to go your own way. Why this sudden return?’

Again Cicely shrugged her shoulders.

‘I thought it—better.’

‘You mean, I suppose, that it’s money?’

Lady Horbury said, ‘My God, how I hate you. You’re the meanest man alive.’

‘Mean? Mean, you say, when it’s because of you and your senseless extravagance that there’s a mortgage on Horbury.’

‘Horbury—Horbury—that’s all you care for! Horses and hunting and shooting and crops and tiresome old farmers. God, what a life for a woman.’

‘Some women enjoy it.’

‘Yes, women like Venetia Kerr, who’s half a horse herself. You ought to have married a woman like that.’

Lord Horbury walked over to the window.

‘It’s a little late to say that. I married you.’

‘And you can’t get out of it,’

said Cicely. Her laugh was malicious, triumphant. ‘You’d like to get rid of me, but you can’t.’

He said, ‘Need we go into all this?’

‘Very much God and the Old School, aren’t you? Most of my friends fairly laugh their heads off when I tell them the kind of things you say.’

‘They are welcome to do so. Shall we get back to our original subject of discussion—your reason for coming here?’

But his wife would not follow his lead. She said:

‘You advertised in the papers that you wouldn’t be responsible for my debts. Do you call that a gentlemanly thing to do?’

‘I regret having had to take that step. I warned you, you will remember. Twice I paid up. But there are limits. Your insensate passion for gambling—well, why discuss it? But I do want to know what prompted you to come down to Horbury. You’ve always hated the place, been bored to death here.’

Cicely Horbury, her small face sullen, said, ‘I thought it better—just now.’

‘Better—just now?’ He repeated the words thoughtfully. Then he asked a question sharply: ‘Cicely, had you been borrowing from that old French moneylender?’

‘Which one? I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You know perfectly what I mean. I mean the woman who was murdered on the plane from Paris—the plane on which you travelled home. Had you borrowed money from her?’

‘No, of course not. What an idea!’

‘Now, don’t be a little fool over this, Cicely. If that woman did lend you money, you’d better tell me about it. Remember the business isn’t over and finished with. The verdict at the inquest was wilful murder by a person or persons unknown. The police of both countries are at work. It’s only a matter of time before they come on the truth. The woman’s sure to have left records of her dealings. If anything crops up to connect you with her we should be prepared beforehand. We must have ffoulkes’s advice on the matter.’ (ffoulkes, ffoulkes, Wilbraham and ffoulkes were the family solicitors who for generations had dealt with the Horbury estate.)