Dumb Witness (Hercule Poirot 16)

“And what happened?”

“Oh, she married him all right.”

“It was a great shock to his sisters?”

“I should think so! They wouldn’t receive her. I don’t know that I blame them, all things considered. Thomas was mortally offended. He went off to live in the Channel Islands and nobody heard anymore of him. Don’t know whether his wife poisoned her first husband. She didn’t poison Thomas. He survived her by three years. There were two children, boy and girl. Good-looking pair—took after their mother.”

“I suppose they came here to their aunt a good deal?”

“Not till after their parents died. They were at school and almost grown up by then. They used to come for holidays. Emily was alone in the world then and they and Bella Biggs were the only kith and kin she had.”

“Biggs?”

“Arabella’s daughter. Dull girl—some years older than Theresa. Made a fool of herself though. Married some Dago who was over at the University. A Greek doctor. Dreadful-looking man—got rather a charming manner, though, I must admit. Well, I don’t suppose poor Bella had many chances. Spent her time helping her father or holding wool for her mother. This fellow was exotic. It appealed to her.”

“Has it been a happy marriage?”

Miss Peabody snapped out:

“I wouldn’t like to say for certain about any marriage! They seem quite happy. Two rather yellow-looking children. They live in Smyrna.”

“But they are now in England, are they not?”

“Yes, they came over in March. I rather fancy they’ll be going back soon.”

“Was Miss Emily Arundell fond of her niece?”

“Fond of Bella? Oh, quite. She’s a dull woman—wrapped up in her children and that sort of thing.”

“Did she approve of the husband?”

Miss Peabody chuckled.

“She didn’t approve of him, but I think she rather liked the rascal. He’s got brains, you know. If you ask me, he was jockeying her along very nicely. Got a nose for money that man.”

Poirot coughed.

“I understand Miss Arundell died a rich woman?” he murmured.

Miss Peabody settled herself more comfortably in her chair.

“Yes, that’s what made all the pother! Nobody dreamed she was quite as well off as she was. How it came about was this way. Old General Arundell left quite a nice little income—divided equally among his son and daughters. Some of it was reinvested, and I think every investment has done well. There were some original shares of Mortauld. Now, of course, Thomas and Arabella took their shares with them when they married. The other three sisters lived here, and they didn’t spend a tenth part of their joint income, it all went back and was reinvested. When Matilda died, she left her money to be divided between Emily and Agnes, and when Agnes died she left hers to Emily. And Emily still went on spending very little. Result, she died a rich woman—and the Lawson woman gets it all!”

Miss Peabody brought out the last sentence as a kind of triumphal climax.

“Did that come as a surprise to you, Miss Peabody?”

“To tell you the truth, it did! Emily had always given out quite openly that at her death her money was to be divided between her nieces and her nephew. And as a matter of fact that was the way it was in the original will. Legacies to the servants and so on and then to be divided between Theresa, Charles and Bella. My goodness, there was a to-do when, after her death, it was found she’d made a new will leaving it all to poor Miss Lawson!”

“Was the will made just before her death?”

Miss Peabody directed a sharp glance at him.

“Thinking of undue influence. No, I’m afraid that’s no use. And I shouldn’t think poor Lawson had the brains or the nerve to attempt anything of the sort. To tell you the truth, she seemed as much surprised as anybody—or said she was!”

Poirot smiled at the addition.

“The will was made about ten days before her death,” went on Miss Peabody. “Lawyer says it’s all right. Well—it may be.”