“They can’t do that,” she said, sharply. “My lawyer says so.”
“Ah,” said Poirot. “You have consulted a lawyer, then?”
“Certainly. Why shouldn’t I?”
“No reason at all. A very wise proceeding. Good day to you, mademoiselle.”
When we emerged from Clanroyden Mansions into the street Poirot drew a deep breath.
“Hastings, mon ami, that woman is either exactly what she seems or else she is a very good actress.”
“She doesn’t believe Miss Arundell’s death was anything but natural. You can see that,” I said.
Poirot did not answer. There are moments when he is conveniently deaf. He hailed a taxi.
“Durham Hotel, Bloomsbury,” he told the driver.
Sixteen
MRS. TANIOS
“Gentleman to see you, madame.”
The woman who was sitting writing at one of the tables in the writing room of the Durham Hotel turned her head and then rose, coming towards us uncertainly.
Mrs. Tanios might have been any age over thirty. She was a tall, thin woman with dark hair, rather prominent light “boiled gooseberry” eyes and a worried face. A fashionable hat was perched on her head at an unfashionable angle and she wore a rather depressed-looking cotton frock.
“I don’t think—” she began vaguely.
Poirot bowed.
“I have just come from your cousin, Miss Theresa Arundell.”
“Oh! from Theresa? Yes?”
“Perhaps I could have a few minutes’ private conversation?”
Mrs. Tanios looked about her rather vacantly. Poirot suggested a leather sofa at the far end of the room.
As we made our way there a high voice squeaked out:
“Mother, where are you going?”
“I shall be just over there. Go on with your letter, darling.”
The child, a thin, peaky-looking girl of about seven, settled down again to what was evidently a laborious task. Her tongue showed through her parted lips in the effort of composition.
The far end of the room was quite deserted. Mrs. Tanios sat down, we did the same. She looked inquiringly at Poirot.
He began:
“It is in reference to the death of your aunt, the late Miss Emily Arundell.”
Was I beginning to fancy things, or did a look of alarm spring up suddenly in those pale, prominent eyes.
“Yes?”
“Miss Arundell,” said Poirot, “altered her will a very short time before she died. By the new will everything was left to Miss Wilhelmina Lawson. What I want to know, Mrs. Tanios, is whether you will join with your cousins, Miss Theresa and Mr. Charles Arundell, in trying to contest that will?”