Dumb Witness (Hercule Poirot 16)

Instead, I saw a rotund, jolly, brown-haired, brown-eyed man. And though it is true he had a beard, it was a modest brown affair that made him look more like an artist.

He spoke English perfectly. His voice had a pleasant timbre and matched the cheerful good humour of his face.

“Here we are,” he s

aid, smiling to his wife. “Edward has been passionately thrilled by his first ride in the tube. He has always been in buses until today.”

Edward was not unlike his father in appearance, but both he and his little sister had a definitely foreign-looking appearance and I understood what Miss Peabody had meant when she described them as rather yellow-looking children.

The presence of her husband seemed to make Mrs. Tanios nervous. Stammering a little she introduced Poirot to him. Me, she ignored.

Dr. Tanios took up the name sharply.

“Poirot? Monsieur Hercule Poirot? But I know that name well! And what brings you to us, M. Poirot?”

“It is the affair of a lady lately deceased. Miss Emily Arundell,” replied Poirot.

“My wife’s aunt? Yes—what of her?”

Poirot said slowly:

“Certain matters have arisen in connection with her death—”

Mrs. Tanios broke in suddenly.

“It’s about the will, Jacob. M. Poirot has been conferring with Theresa and Charles.”

Some of the tensity went out of Dr. Tanios’ attitude. He dropped into a chair.

“Ah, the will! An iniquitous will—but there, it is not my business, I suppose.”

Poirot sketched an account of his interview with the two Arundells (hardly a truthful one, I may say) and cautiously hinted at a fighting chance of upsetting the will.

“You interest me, M. Poirot, very much. I may say I am of your opinion. Something could be done. I actually went as far as to consult a lawyer on the subject, but his advice was not encouraging. Therefore—” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Lawyers, as I have told your wife, are cautious people. They do not like taking chances. But me, I am different! And you?”

Dr. Tanios laughed—a rich rollicking laugh.

“Oh, I’d take a chance all right! Often have, haven’t I, Bella, old girl?” He smiled across at her, and she smiled back at him—but in a rather mechanical manner, I thought.

He turned his attention back to Poirot.

“I am not a lawyer,” he said. “But in my opinion it is perfectly clear that that will was made when the old lady was not responsible for what she was doing. That Lawson woman is both clever and cunning.”

Mrs. Tanios moved uneasily. Poirot looked at her quickly.

“You do not agree, madame?”

She said rather weakly:

“She has always been very kind. I shouldn’t call her clever.”

“She’s been kind to you,” said Dr. Tanios, “because she had nothing to fear from you, my dear Bella. You’re easily taken in!”

He spoke good-humouredly, but his wife flushed.

“With me it was different,” he went on. “She didn’t like me. And she made no bones about showing it! I’ll give you an instance. The old lady had a fall down the stairs when we were staying there. I insisted on coming back the following weekend to see how she was. Miss Lawson did her utmost to prevent us. She didn’t succeed, but she was annoyed about it, I could see. The reason was clear. She wanted the old lady to herself.”