Dumb Witness (Hercule Poirot 16)

A quick colour rose in Mrs. Tanios’ cheeks as she murmured:

“I haven’t the least idea.”

“Madame, I have told you I am not a lawyer. But you have not asked me what my profession is.”

She looked at him inquiringly.

“I am a detective. And, a short time before she died, Miss Emily Arundell wrote me a letter.”

Mrs. Tanios leaned forward, her hands pressed themselves together.

“A letter?” she asked, abruptly. “About my husband?”

Poirot watched her for a minute or two, then he said, slowly:

“I am afraid I am not at liberty to answer that question.”

“Then it was about my husband.” Her voice rose slightly. “What did she say? I can assure you, Mr.—er—I don’t know your name.”

“Poirot is my name. Hercule Poirot.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Poirot, that if anything was said in that letter against my husband, it was entirely untrue! I know, too, who will have inspired that letter! And that is another reason why I would rather have nothing to do with any action undertaken by Theresa and Charles! Theresa has never liked my husband. She has said things! I know she has said things! Aunt Emily was prejudiced against my husband because he was not an Englishman, and she may therefore have believed things that Theresa said about him. But they are not true, Mr. Poirot, you can take my word for that!”

“Mother—I’ve finished my letter.”

Mrs. Tanios turned quickly. With an affectionate smile she took the letter the little girl held out to her.

“That’s very nice, darling, very nice, indeed. And that’s a beautiful drawing of Mickey Mouse.”

“What shall I do now, Mother?”

“Would you like to get a nice postcard with a picture on it? Here’s the money. You go to the gentleman in the hall and choose one and then you can send it to Selim.”

The child moved away. I remembered what Charles Arundell had said. Mrs. Tanios was evidently a devoted wife and mother. She was also, as he had said, a little like an earwig.

“That is your only child, madame?”

“No, I have a little boy also. He is out with his father at the moment.”

“They did not accompany you to Littlegreen House on your visits?”

“Oh yes, sometimes, but you see, my aunt was rather old and children were inclined to worry her. But she was very kind and always sent them out nice presents at Christmas.”

“Let me see, when did you last see Miss Emily Arundell?”

“I think it was about ten days before she died.”

“You and your husband and your two cousins were all down there together, were you not?”

“Oh, no, that was the weekend before—at Easter.”

“And you and your husband were down there the weekend after Easter as well?”

“Yes.”

“And Miss Arundell was in good health and spirits then?”

“Yes, she seemed much as usual.”