Again Poirot turned to the wife.
“You agree, madame?”
Her husband did not give her time to answer.
“Bella’s too kindhearted,” he said. “You won’t get her to impute bad motives to anybody. But I’m quite sure I was right. I’ll tell you another thing, M. Poirot. The secret of her ascendency over old Miss Arundell was spiritualism! That’s how it was done, depend upon it!”
“You think so?”
“Sure of it, my dear fellow. I’ve seen a lot of that sort of thing. It gets hold of people. You’d be amazed! Especially anyone of Miss Arundell’s age. I’d be prepared to bet that that’s how the suggestion came. Some spirit—possibly her dead father—ordered her to alter her will and leave her money to the Lawson woman. She was in bad health—credulous—”
There was a very faint movement from Mrs. Tanios. Poirot turned to her.
“You think it possible—yes?”
“Speak up, Bella,” said Dr. Tanios. “Tell us your views?”
He looked at her encouragingly. Her quick look back at him was an odd one. She hesitated, then said:
“I know so little about these things. I daresay you’re right, Jacob.”
“Depend upon it I’m right, eh, M. Poirot?”
Poirot nodded his head.
“It may be—yes.” Then he said, “You were down at Market Basing, I think, the weekend before Miss Arundell’s death?”
“We were down at Easter and again the weekend after—that is right.”
“No, no, I meant the weekend after that—on the 26th. You were there on the Sunday, I think?”
“Oh, Jacob, were you?” Mrs. Tanios looked at him wide-eyed.
He turned quickly.
“Yes, you remember? I just ran down in the afternoon. I told you about it.”
Both Poirot and I were looking at her. Nervously she pushed her hat a little farther back on her head.
“Surely you remember, Bella,” her husband continued. “What a terrible memory you’ve got.”
“Of course!” she apologized, a thin smile on her face. “It’s quite true, I have a shocking memory. And it’s nearly two months ago now.”
“Miss Theresa Arundell and Mr. Charles Arundell were there then, I believe?” said Poirot.
“They may have been,” said Tanios easily. “I didn’t see them.”
“You were not there very long then?”
“Oh, no—just half an hour or so.”
Poirot’s inquiring gaze seemed to make him a little uneasy.
“Might as well confess,” he said with a twinkle. “I hoped to get a loan—but I didn’t get it. I’m afraid my wife’s aunt didn’t take to me as much as she might. Pity, because I liked her. She was a sporting old lady.”
“May I ask you a frank question, Dr. Tanios?”
Was there or was there not a momentary apprehension in Tanios’ eye?