Cards on the Table (Hercule Poirot 15)

“About four years ago. It’s odd, isn’t it, how the same things happen again and again to people. I had an aunt who was always in shipwrecks. And here’s Anne mixed up in two sudden deaths—only, of course, this one is much worse. Murder’s rather awful, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

The black coffee and the hot buttered toast appeared at this minute.

Rhoda ate and drank with childish gusto. It was very exciting to her thus to be sharing an intimate meal with a celebrity.

When they had finished she rose and said:

“I do hope I haven’t interrupted you too terribly. Would you mind—I mean, would it bother you awfully—if I sent one of your books to you, would you sign it for me?”

Mrs. Oliver laughed.

“Oh, I can do better than that for you.” She opened a cupboard at the far end of the room. “Which would you like? I rather fancy The Affair of the Second Goldfish myself. It’s not quite such frightful tripe as the rest.”

A little shocked at hearing an authoress thus describe the children of her pen, Rhoda accepted eagerly. Mrs. Oliver took the book, opened it, inscribed her name with a superlative flourish and handed it to Rhoda.

“There you are.”

“Thank you very much. I have enjoyed myself. Sure you didn’t mind my coming?”

“I wanted you to,” said Mrs. Oliver.

She added after a moment’s pause:

“You’re a nice child. Good-bye. Take care of yourself, my dear.”

“Now, why did I say that?” she murmured to herself as the door closed behind her guest.

She shook her head, ruffled her hair, and returned to the masterly dealings of Sven Hjerson with the sage and onion stuffing.

Eighteen

TEA INTERLUDE

Mrs. Lorrimer came out of a certain door in Harley Street.

She stood for a minute at the top of the steps, and then she descended them slowly.

There was a curious expression on her face—a mingling of grim determination and of strange indecision. She bent her brows a little, as though to concentrate on some all-absorbing problem.

It was just then that she caught sight of Anne Meredith on the opposite pavement.

Anne was standing staring up at a big block of flats just on the corner.

Mrs. Lorrimer hesitated a moment, then she crossed the road.

“How do you do, Miss Meredith?”

Anne started and turned.

“Oh, how do you do?”

“Still in London?” said Mrs. Lorrimer.

“No. I’ve only come up for the day. To do some legal business.”

Her eyes were still straying to the big block of flats.