Mrs. Bishop, who followed daily in the court circular the exact movements of Royalty, was overborne. After all, if They had sent for Mr. Poirot… Well, naturally, that made All the Difference. Foreigner or no foreigner, who was she, Emma Bishop, to hold back where Royalty had led the way?
Presently she and M. Poirot were engaged in pleasant conversation on a really interesting theme—no less than the selection of a suitable future husband for Princess Elizabeth.
Having finally exhausted all possible candidates as Not Good Enough, the talk reverted to less exalted circles.
Poirot observed sententiously:
“Marriage, alas, is fraught with dangers and pitfalls!”
Mrs. Bishop said:
“Yes, indeed—with this nasty divorce,” rather as though she were speaking of a contagious disease such as chickenpox.
“I expect,” said Poirot, “that Mrs. Welman, before her death, must have been anxious to see her niece suitably settled in life?”
Mrs. Bishop bowed her head.
“Yes, indeed. The engagement between Miss Elinor and Mr. Roderick was a great relief to her. It was a thing she had always hoped for.”
Poirot ventured:
“The engagement was perhaps entered into partly from a wish to please her?”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t say that, Mr. Poirot. Miss Elinor has always been devoted to Mr. Roddy—always was, as a tiny tot—quite beautiful to see. Miss Elinor has a very loyal and devoted nature!”
Poirot murmured:
“And he?”
Mrs. Bishop said austerely:
“Mr. Roderick was devoted to Miss Elinor.”
Poirot said:
“Yet the engagement, I think, was broken off?”
The colour rose in Mrs. Bishop’s face. She said:
“Owing, Mr. Poirot, to the machinations of a snake in the grass.”
Poirot said, appearing suitably impressed:
“Indeed?”
Mrs. Bishop, her face becoming redder still, explained:
“In this country, Mr. Poirot, there is a certain Decency to be observed when mentioning the Dead. But that young woman, Mr. Poirot, was Underhand in her Dealings.”
Poirot looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.
Then he said with an apparent lack of guile:
“You surprise me. I had been given the impression that she was a very simple and unassuming girl.”
Mrs. Bishop’s chin trembled a little.
“She was Artful, Mr. Poirot. People were Taken In by her. That Nurse Hopkins, for instance! Yes, and my poor dear mistress too!”