Angela nodded thoughtfully. She said:
“That is difficult, I agree. I suppose that, as Caroline said, Amyas committed suicide.”
“Is that likely from what you know of his character?”
“Very unlikely.”
“But you do not say, as in the first case, that you know it is impossible?”
“No, because, as I said just now, most people do do impossible things—that is to say things that seem out of character. But I presume, if you know them intimately, it wouldn’t be out of character.”
“You knew your brother-in-law well?”
“Yes, but not like I knew Caro. It seems to me quite fantastic that Amyas should have killed himself—but I suppose he could have done so. In fact, he must have done so.”
“You cannot see any other explanation?”
Angela accepted the suggestion calmly, but not without a certain stirring of interest.
“Oh, I see what you mean…I’ve never really considered that possibility. You mean one of the other people killed him? That it was a deliberate cold-blooded murder….”
“It might have been, might it not?”
“Yes, it might have been…But it certainly seems very unlikely.”
“More unlikely than suicide?”
“That’s difficult to say…On the face of it, there was no reason for suspecting anybody else. There isn’t now when I look back….”
“All the same, let us consider the possibility. Who of those intimately concerned would you say was—shall we say—the most likely person?”
“Let me think. Well, I didn’t kill him. And the Elsa creature certainly didn’t. She was mad with rage when he died. Who else was there? Meredith Blake? He was always very devoted to Caroline, quite a tame cat about the house. I suppose that might give him a motive in a way. In a book he might have wanted to get Amyas out of the way so that he himself could marry Caroline. But he could have achieved that just as well by letting Amyas go off with Elsa and then in due time consoling Caroline. Besides I really can’t see Meredith as a murderer. Too mild and too cautious. Who else was there?”
Poirot suggested: “Miss Williams? Philip Blake?”
Angela’s grave face relaxed into a smile for a minute.
“Miss Williams? One can’t really make oneself believe that one’s governess could commit a murder! Miss Williams was always so unyielding and so full of rectitude.”
She paused a minute and then went on:
“She was devoted to Caroline, of course. Would have done anything for her. And she hated Amyas. She was a great feminist and disliked men. Is that enough for murder? Surely not.”
“It would hardly seem so,” agreed Poirot.
Angela went on:
“Philip Blake?” She was silent for some few moments. Then she said quietly: “I think, you know, if we’re just talking of likelihoods, he’s the most likely person.”
Poirot said:
“You interest me very much, Miss Warren. May I ask why you say that?”
“Nothing at all definite. But from what I remember of him, I should say he was a person of rather limited imagination.”
“And a limited imagination predisposes you to murder?”
“It might lead you to take a crude way of settling your difficulties. Men of that type get a certain satisfaction from action of some kind or other. Murder is a very crude business, don’t you think so?”