Sad Cypress (Hercule Poirot 22)

“Tomorrow I’ll have to get hold of a second resident nurse. Awkward, this diphtheria epidemic over at Stamford. The nursing homes there are working shorthanded as it is.”

Then, having given his orders, which were listened to with reverent attention (which sometimes tickled him), Dr. Lord went downstairs, ready to receive the niece and nephew who, his watch told him, were due to arrive at any minute now.

I

n the hall he encountered Mary Gerrard. Her face was pale and anxious. She asked:

“Is she better?”

Dr. Lord said:

“I can ensure her a peaceful night—that’s about all that can be done.”

Mary said brokenly:

“It seems so cruel—so unfair—”

He nodded sympathetically enough.

“Yes, it does seem like that sometimes. I believe—”

He broke off.

“That’s the car.”

He went out into the hall. Mary ran upstairs.

Elinor exclaimed as she came into the drawing room:

“Is she very bad?”

Roddy was looking pale and apprehensive.

The doctor said gravely:

“I’m afraid it will be rather a shock to you. She’s badly paralysed. Her speech is almost unrecognizable. By the way, she’s definitely worried about something. It’s to do with sending for her lawyer. You know who he is, Miss Carlisle?”

Elinor said quickly:

“Mr. Seddon—of Bloomsbury Square. But he wouldn’t be there at this time of the evening, and I don’t know his home address.”

Dr. Lord said reassuringly:

“Tomorrow will be in plenty of time. But I’m anxious to set Mrs. Welman’s mind at rest as soon as possible. If you will come up with me now, Miss Carlisle, I think together we shall be able to reassure her.”

“Of course. I will come up at once.”

Roddy said hopefully:

“You don’t want me?”

He felt faintly ashamed of himself, but he had a nervous dread of going up to the sickroom, of seeing Aunt Laura lying there in-articulate and helpless.

Dr. Lord reassured him promptly.

“Not the least need, Mr. Welman. Better not to have too many people in the room.”

Roddy’s relief showed plainly.