Murder in the Mews (Hercule Poirot 18) - Page 104

business. It sounds disrespectful, but there’s really a lot of affection behind it. Of course, he was really the most complete, muddleheaded old ass that ever lived!”

“You interest me, mademoiselle.”

“The Old Man had the brains of a louse! Sorry to have to say it, but it’s true. He was incapable of any kind of headwork. Mind you, he was a character. Fantastically brave and all that! Could go careering off to the Pole, or fighting duels. I always think that he blustered such a lot because he really knew that his brains weren’t up to much. Anyone could have got the better of him.”

Poirot took the letter from his pocket.

“Read this, mademoiselle.”

She read it through and handed it back to him.

“So that’s what brought you here!”

“Does it suggest anything to you, that letter?”

She shook her head.

“No. It’s probably quite true. Anyone could have robbed the poor old pet. John says the last agent before him swindled him right and left. You see, the Old Man was so grand and so pompous that he never really condescended to look into details! He was an invitation to crooks.”

“You paint a different picture of him, mademoiselle, from the accepted one.”

“Oh, well—he put up a pretty good camouflage. Vanda (my mother) backed him for all she was worth. He was so happy stalking round pretending he was God Almighty. That’s why, in a way, I’m glad he’s dead. It’s the best thing for him.”

“I do not quite follow you, mademoiselle.”

Ruth said broodingly:

“It was growing on him. One of these days he would have had to be locked up . . . People were beginning to talk as it was.”

“Did you know, mademoiselle, that he was contemplating a will whereby you could only inherit his money if you married Mr. Trent?”

She cried:

“How absurd! Anyway, I’m sure that could be set aside by law . . . I’m sure you can’t dictate to people about whom they shall marry.”

“If he had actually signed such a will, would you have complied with its provisions, mademoiselle?”

She stared.

“I—I—”

She broke off. For two or three minutes she sat irresolute, looking down at her dangling slipper. A little piece of earth detached itself from the heel and fell on the carpet.

Suddenly Ruth Chevenix-Gore said:

“Wait!”

She got up and ran out of the room. She returned almost immediately with Captain Lake by her side.

“It’s got to come out,” she said rather breathlessly. “You might as well know now. John and I were married in London three weeks ago.”

Ten

Of the two of them, Captain Lake looked far the more embarrassed.

“This is a great surprise, Miss Chevenix-Gore—Mrs. Lake, I should say,” said Major Riddle. “Did no one know of this marriage of yours?”

“No, we kept it quite dark. John didn’t like that part of it much.”

Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery
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