“Yes. Yes, just that. A luminous haze gradually surrounding Miss Arundell’s head—an aureole of faint light. It was a sign—we know that now—a sign that she was about to pass over to the other side.”
“Remarkable,” said Poirot in a suitably impressed voice. “It was dark in the room, yes?”
“Oh, yes, we always get better results in the dark, and it was quite a warm evening so we didn’t even have the fire on.”
“A most interesting spirit spoke to us,” said Isabel. “Fatima, her name was. She told us she had passed over in the time of the Crusades. She gave us a most beautiful message.”
“She actually spoke to you?”
“No, not direct voice. She rapped it out. Love. Hope. Life. Beautiful words.”
“And Miss Arundell was actually taken ill at the seance?”
“It was just after. Some sandwiches and port wine were brought in, and dear Miss Arundell said she wouldn’t have any as she wasn’t feeling very well. That was the beginning of her illness. Mercifully, she did not have to endure much suffering.”
“She passed over four days later,” said Isabel. “And we have already had messages from her,” said Julia eagerly. “Saying that she is very happy and that everything is beautiful and that she hopes that there is love and peace among all her dear ones.”
Poirot coughed.
“That—er—is hardly the case, I fear?”
“The relations have behaved disgracefully to poor Minnie,” said Isabel. Her face flushed with indignation.
“Minnie is the most unworldly soul,” chimed in Julia.
“People have gone about saying the unkindest things—that she schemed for this money to be left her!”
“When really it was the greatest surprise to her—”
“She could hardly believe her ears when the lawyer read the will—”
“She told us so herself. ‘Julia,’ she said to me. ‘My dear, you could have knocked me over with a feather. Just a few bequests to the servants and then Littlegreen House and the residue of my estate to Wilhelmina Lawson.’ She was so flabbergasted she could hardly speak. And when she could she asked how much it would be—thinking perhaps it would be a few thousand pounds—and Mr. Purvis, after humming and hawing and talking about confusing things like gross and net personalities, said it would be in the neighbourhood of three hundred and seventy-five thousand pounds. Poor Minnie nearly fainted, she told us.”
“She had no idea,” the other sister reiterated. “She never thought of such a thing happening!”
“That is what she told you, yes?”
“Oh, yes, she repeated it several times. And that’s what makes it so wicked of the Arundell family to go on as they have done—cold-shouldering her and treating her with suspicion. After all, this is a free country—”
“English people seem to labour under that misapprehension,” murmured Poirot.
“And I should hope anyone can leave their money exactly as they choose! I think Miss Arundell acted very wisely. Obviously she mistrusted her own relatives and I daresay she had her reasons.”
“Ah?” Poirot leant forward with interest. “Indeed?”
This flattering attention encouraged Isabel to proceed.
“Yes, indeed. Mr. Charles Arundell, her nephew, is a thoroughly bad lot. That’s well known! I believe he’s even wanted by the police in some foreign country. Not at all a desirable character. As for his sister, well, I’ve not actually spoken to her, but she’s a very queer-looking girl. Ultra modern, of course, and terribly made-up. Really, the sight of her mouth made me quite ill. It looked like blood. And I rather suspect she takes drugs—her manner was so odd sometimes. She’s by way of being engaged to that nice young Dr. Donaldson, but I fancy even he looked disgusted sometimes. Of course, she is attractive in her way, but I hope that he will come to his senses in time and marry some nice English girl who is fond of country life and outdoor pursuits.”
“And the other relations?”
“Well, there you are again. Very undesirable. Not that I’ve anything to say against Mrs. Tanios—she’s quite a nice woman—but absolutely stupid and completely under her husband’s thumb. Of course, he’s really a Turk, I believe—rather dreadful for an English girl to marry a Turk, I think, don’t you? It shows a certain lack of fastidiousness. Of course, Mrs. Tanios is a very good mother, though the children are singularly unattractive, poor little things.”
“So altogether you think Miss Lawson was a more worthy recipient of Miss Arundell’s fortune?”
Julia said serenely:
“Minnie Lawson is a thoroughly good woman. And so unworldly. It isn’t as though she had ever thought about money. She was never grasping.”