“It is no matter who told me. That I know, that is the point.”
Again there was a silence; then Philip Blake made up his mind. He said:
“By accident, it seems, you have stumbled upon a purely private matter. I admit that it does not square with what I have written down. Nevertheless, it squares better than you might think. I am forced now to tell you the truth.
“I did entertain a feeling of animosity toward Caroline Crale. At the same time I was always strongly attracted by her. Perhaps the latter fact induced the former. I resented the power she had over me and tried to stifle the attraction she had for me by constantly dwelling on her worst points. I never liked her, if you understand. But it would have been easy at any moment for me to make love to her. I had been in love with her as a boy and she had taken no notice of me. I did not find that easy to forgive.
“My opportunity came when Amyas lost his head so completely over the Greer girl. Quite without meaning to I found myself telling Caroline I loved her. She said quite calmly: “Yes, I have always known that.” The insolence of the woman!
“Of course I knew that she didn’t love me, but I saw that she was disturbed and disillusioned by Amyas’s present infatuation. That is a mood when a woman can very easily be won. She agreed to come to me that night. And she came.”
Blake paused. He found now a difficulty in getting the words out.
“She came to my room. And then, with my arms round her, she told me quite coolly that it was no good! After all, she said, she was a one-man woman. She was Amyas Crale’s, for better or worse. She agreed that she had treated me very badly, but said she couldn’t help it. She asked me to forgive her.
“And she left me. She left me! Do you wonder, Mr. Poirot, that my hatred of her was heightened a hundredfold? Do you wonder that I have never forgiven her? For the insult she did me—as well as for the fact that she killed the friend I loved better than anyone in the world!”
Trembling violently, Philip Blake exclaimed:
“I don’t want to speak of it, do you hear? You’ve got your answer. Now go! And never mention the matter to me again!”
II
“I w
ant to know, Mr. Blake, the order in which your guests left the laboratory that day?”
Meredith Blake protested.
“But, my dear Mr. Poirot. After sixteen years! How can I possibly remember? I’ve told you that Caroline came out last.”
“You are sure of that?”
“Yes—at least—I think so….”
“Let us go there now. We must be quite sure, you see.”
Still protesting, Meredith Blake led the way. He unlocked the door and swung back the shutters. Poirot spoke to him authoritatively.
“Now then, my friend. You have showed your visitors your interesting preparations of herbs. Shut your eyes now and think—”
Meredith Blake did so obediently. Poirot drew a handkerchief from his pocket and gently passed it to and fro. Blake murmured, his nostrils twitching slightly:
“Yes, yes—extraordinary how things come back to one. Caroline, I remember, had on a pale coffee-coloured dress. Phil was looking bored…He always thought my hobby was quite idiotic.”
Poirot said:
“Reflect now, you are about to leave the room. You are going to the library where you are going to read the passage about the death of Socrates. Who leaves the room first—do you?”
“Elsa and I—yes. She passed through the door first. I was close behind her. We were talking. I stood there waiting for the others to come so that I could lock the door again. Philip—yes, Philip came out next. And Angela—she was asking him what bulls and bears were. They went on through the hall. Amyas followed them. I stood there waiting still—for Caroline, of course.”
“So you are quite sure Caroline stayed behind. Did you see what she was doing?”
Blake shook his head.
“No, I had my back to the room, you see. I was talking to Elsa—boring her, I expect—telling her how certain plants must be gathered at the full of the moon according to old superstition. And then Caroline came out—hurrying a little—and I locked the door.”
He stopped and looked at Poirot, who was replacing a handkerchief in his pocket. Meredith Blake sniffled disgustedly and thought: “Why, the fellow actually uses scent!”