Sad Cypress (Hercule Poirot 22)

The very faintest of sniffs came from Nurse Hopkins.

Elinor said:

“Poor darling. It upset me terribly seeing her like that.”

“Of course. But you didn’t show it. You must have great self-control.”

Elinor said, her lips set very straight:

“I’ve learnt not—to show my feelings.”

The doctor said slowly:

“All the same the mask’s bound to slip once in a while.”

Nurse Hopkins had bustled into the bathroom. Elinor said, raising her delicate eyebrows and looking full at him:

“The mask?”

Dr. Lord said:

“The human face is, after all, nothing more nor less than a mask.”

“And underneath?”

“Underneath is the primitive human man or woman.”

She turned away quickly and led the way downstairs.

Peter Lord followed, puzzled and unwontedly serious.

Roddy came out into the hall to meet them.

“Well?” he asked anxiously.

Elinor said:

“Poor darling. It’s very sad to see her… I shouldn’t go, Roddy—till—till—she asks for you.”

Roddy asked:

“Did she want anything—special?”

Peter Lord said to Elinor:

“I must be off now. There’s nothing more I can do for the moment. I’ll look in early tomorrow. Good-bye, Miss Carlisle. Don’t—don’t worry too much.”

He held her hand in his for a moment or two. He had a strangely reassuring and comforting clasp. He looked at her, Elinor thought, rather oddly as though—as though he was sorry for her.

As the door shut behind the doctor, Roddy repeated his question.

Elinor said:

“Aunt Laura is worried about—about certain business matters. I managed to pacify her and told her Mr. Seddon would certainly come down tomorrow. We must telephone him first thing.”

Roddy asked:

“Does she want to make a new will?”