‘So you are satisfied?’ persisted Poirot.
Gerard went on:
‘There is no doubt that her death was—how shall we put it?—beneficial to the community. It has brought freedom to her family. They will have scope to develop—they are all, I think, people of good character and intelligence. They will be—now—useful members of society! The death of Mrs Boynton, as I see it, has resulted in nothing but good.’
Poirot repeated for the third time: ‘So you are satisfied?’
‘No.’ Gerard pounded a fist suddenly on the table. ‘I am not “satisfied”, as you put it! It is my instinct to preserve life—not to hasten death. Therefore, though my conscious mind may repeat that this woman’s death was a good thing, my unconscious mind rebels against it! It is not well, gentlemen, that a human being should die before her time has come.’
Poirot smiled. He leaned back contented with the answer he had probed for so patiently.
Colonel Carbury said unemotionally: ‘He don’t like murder! Quite right! No more do I.’
He rose and poured himself out a stiff whisky and soda. His guests’ glasses were still full.
‘And now,’ he said, returning to the subject, ‘let’s get down to brass tacks. Is there anything to be done about it? We don’t like it—no! But we may have to lump it! No good making a fuss if you can’t deliver the goods.’
Gerard leaned forward. ‘What is your professional opinion, M. Poirot? You are the expert.’
Poirot took a little time to speak. Methodically he arranged an ash-tray or two and made a little heap of used matches. Then he said:
‘You desire to know, do you not, Colonel Carbury, who killed Mrs Boynton? (That is if she was killed and did not die a natural death.) Exactly how and when she was killed—and in fact the whole truth of the matter?’
‘I should like to know that, yes.’ Carbury spoke unemotionally.
Hercule Poirot said slowly: ‘I see no reason why you should not know it!’
Dr Gerard looked incredulous. Colonel Carbury looked mildly interested.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘So you don’t, don’t you? That’s interestin’. How d’you propose to set about it?’
‘By methodical sifting of the evidence, by a process of reasoning.’
‘Suits me,’ said Colonel Carbury.
‘And by a study of the psychological possibilities.’
‘Suits Dr Gerard, I expect,’ said Carbury. ‘And after that—after you’ve sifted the evidence and done some reasoning and paddled in psychology—hey presto!—you think you can produce the rabbit out of the hat?’
‘I should be extremely surprised if I could not do so,’ said Poirot calmly.
Colonel Carbury stared at him over the rim of his glass. Just for a moment the vague eyes were no longer vague—they measured—and appraised.
He put down his glass with a grunt.
‘What do you say to that, Dr Gerard?’
‘I admit that I am skeptical of success…Yes, I know that M. Poirot has great powers.’
‘I am gifted—yes,’ said the little man. He smiled modestly.
Colonel Carbury turned away his head and coughed.
Poirot said: ‘The first thing to decide is whether this is a composite murder—planned and carried out by the Boynton family as a whole, or whether it is the work of one of them only. If the latter, which is the most likely member of the family to have attempted it.’
Dr Gerard said: ‘There is your own evidence. One must, I think, consider first Raymond Boynton.’
‘I agree,’ said Poirot. ‘The words I overheard and the discrepancy between his evidence and that of the young woman doctor puts him definitely in the forefront of the suspects.’