“What’s that?”
Poirot said clearly:
“It is possible that the body of Miss Emily Arundell may be exhumed.”
Theresa stood still, her hands clenched. She said in a low, angry voice:
“Is this your doing? It can’t be done without an application from the family!”
“You are wrong, mademoiselle. It can be done on an order from the Home Office.”
“My God!” said Theresa.
She turned and walked swiftly up and down.
Donaldson said quietly:
“I really don’t see that there is any need to be upset, Tessa. I daresay that to an outsider the idea is not very pleasant, but—”
She interrupted him.
“Don’t be a fool, Rex!”
Poirot asked:
“The idea disturbs you, mademoiselle?”
“Of course it does! It isn’t decent. Poor old Aunt Emily. Why the devil should she be exhumed?”
“I presume,” said Donaldson, “that there is some doubt as to the cause of death?” He looked inquiringly at Poirot. He went on. “I confess that I am surprised. I think that there is no doubt that Miss Arundell died a natural death from a disease of long standing.”
“You told me something about a rabbit and liver trouble once,” said Theresa. “I’ve forgotten it now, but you infect a rabbit with blood from a person with yellow atrophy of the liver, and then you inject that rabbit’s blood into another rabbit, and then that second rabbit’s blood into a person and the person gets a diseased liver. Something like that.”
“That was merely an illustration of serum therapeutics,” said Donaldson patiently.
“Pity there are so many rabbits in the story!” said Theresa with a reckless laugh. “None of us keep rabbits.” She turned on Poirot and her voice altered.
“M. Poirot, is this true?” she asked.
“It is true enough, but—there are ways of avoiding such a contingency, mademoiselle.”
“Then avoid it!” her voice sank almost to a whisper. It was urgent, compelling. “Avoid it at all costs!”
Poirot rose to his feet.
“Those are your instructions?” His voice was formal.
“Those are my instructions.”
“But Tessa—” Donaldson interrupted.
She whirled round on her fiancé.
“Be quiet! She was my aunt, wasn’t she? Why should my aunt be dug up? Don’t you know there will be paragraphs in the papers and gossip and general unpleasantness?” She swung round again on Poirot.
“You must stop it! I give you carte blanche. Do anything you like, but stop it!”
Poirot bowed formally.