Dumb Witness (Hercule Poirot 16)

Both women were looking at him respectfully.

“I shall have, I think, to consult Miss Arundell’s lawyer. She had a lawyer, did she not?”

Ellen answered, quickly.

“Oh, yes, sir. Mr. Purvis from Harchester.”

“He knew all her affairs?”

“I think so, sir. He’s done everything for her ever since I can remember. It was him she sent for after the fall she had.”

“The fall down the stairs?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now let me see when was that exactly?”

The cook broke in.

“Day after Bank Holiday it was. I remember that well. I stayed in to oblige on Bank Holiday seeing she had all those people staying and I had the day on Wednesday instead.”

Poirot whipped out his pocket almanac.

“Precisely—precisely. Easter Bank Holiday, I see, fell on the thirteenth this year. Then Miss Arundell had her accident on the fourteenth. This letter to me was written three days later. A pity it was never sent. However, it may still not be too late—” he paused. “I rather fancy that the—er—commission she wished me to perform was connected with one of the—er—guests you mentioned just now.”

This remark, which could only have been a pure shot in the dark, met with immediate response. A quick look of intelligence passed across Ellen’s face. She turned to the cook who gave her back an answering glance.

“That’ll be Mr. Charles,” she said.

“If you would tell me just who was there—” Poirot suggested.

“Dr. Tanios and his wife, Miss Bella that was, and Miss Theresa and Mr. Charles.”

“They were all nephews and nieces?”

“That’s right, sir. Dr. Tanios, of course, is no relation. In fact he’s a foreigner, a Greek or something of the sort, I believe. He married Miss Bella, Miss Arundell’s niece, her sister’s child. Mr. Charles and Miss Theresa are brother and sister.”

“Ah, yes, I see. A family party. And when did they leave?”

“On the Wednesday morning, sir. And Dr. Tanios and Miss Bella came down again the next weekend because they were worried about Miss Arundell.”

“And Mr. Charles and Miss Theresa?”

“They came the weekend after. The weekend before she died.”

Poirot’s curiosity, I felt, was quite insatiable. I could see no point in these continued questions. He got the explanation of his mystery, and in my opinion the sooner he retired with dignity the better.

The thought seemed to go from my brain to his.

“Eh bien,” he said. “This information you have given me is very helpful. I must consult this Mr. Purvis, I think you said? Thank you very much for all your help.”

He stooped and patted Bob.

“Brave chien, va! You loved your mistress.”

Bob responded amiably to these overtures and, hopeful of a little play, went and fetched a large piece of coal. For this he was reproved and the coal removed from him. He sent me a glance in search of sympathy.

“These women,” he seemed to say. “Generous with the food, but not really sportsmen!”