Poirot said sharply:
‘What lady? What was it she said?’
Sugden answered: ‘Mrs Lee—Mrs Alfred. Stood over there by the door and half whispered it. It didn’t make sense to me.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Something about who would have thought the old gentleman had so much blood in him…’
Poirot said softly:
‘ “Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?” The words of Lady Macbeth. She said that…Ah, that is interesting…’
VIII
Alfred Lee and his wife came into the small study where Poirot, Sugden and the chief constable were standing waiting. Colonel Johnson came forward.
‘How do you do, Mr Lee? We’ve never actually met, but as you know, I’m chief constable of the county. Johnson’s my name. I can’t tell you how distressed I am by this.’
Alfred, his brown eyes like those of a suffering dog, said hoarsely:
‘Thank you. It’s terrible—quite terrible. I—this is my wife.’
Lydia said in her quiet voice:
‘It has been a frightful shock to my husband—to all of us—but particularly to him.’
Her hand was on her husband’s shoulder.
Colonel Johnson said:
‘Won’t you sit down, Mrs Lee? Let me introduce M. Hercule Poirot.’
Hercule Poirot bowed. His eyes went interestedly from husband to wife.
Lydia’s hands pressed gently on Alfred’s shoulder.
‘Sit down, Alfred.’
Alfred sat. He murmured:
‘Hercule Poirot. Now, who—who—?’
He passed his hand in a dazed fashion over his forehead.
Lydia Lee said:
‘Colonel Johnson will want to ask you a lot of questions, Alfred.’
The chief constable looked at her with approval. He was thankful that Mrs Alfred Lee was turning out to be such a sensible and competent woman.
Alfred said:
‘Of course. Of course…’
Johnson said to himself;
‘Shock seems to have knocked him out completely. Hope he can pull himself together a bit.’