“The thought of that missing tube never caused either you or Nurse Hopkins an uneasy moment?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that… I do remember that it came into my head—and into Nurse Hopkins’ head, too, I believe—in the Blue Tit Café, we were at the time. And I saw the thought pass into her mind from mine. ‘It couldn’t be any other way than that I left it on the mantelpiece and it fell into the dustbin, could it?’ she says. And ‘No, indeed, that was the way of it,’ I said to her; and neither of us saying what was in our minds and the fear that was on us.”
Hercule Poirot asked:
“And what do you think now?”
Nurse O’Brien said:
“If they find morphine in her there’ll be little doubt who took that tube, nor what it was used for—though I’ll not be believing she sent the old lady the same road till it’s proved there’s morphine in her.”
Poirot said:
“You have no doubt at all that Elinor Carlisle killed Mary Gerrard?”
“There’s no question of it at all, in my opinion! Who else had the reason or the wish to do it?”
“That is the question,” said Poirot.
Nurse O’Brien went on dramatically:
“Wasn’t I there that night when the old lady was trying to speak, and Miss Elinor promising her that everything should be done decently and according to her wishes? And didn’t I see her face looking after Mary as she went down the stairs one day, and the black hate that was on it? ’Twas murder she had in her heart that minute.”
Poirot said:
“If Elinor Carlisle killed Mrs. Welman, why did she do it?”
“Why? For the money, of course. Two hundred thousand pounds, no less. That’s what she got by it, and that’s why she did it—if she did it. She’s a bold, clever young lady, with no fear in her, and plenty of brains.”
Hercule Poirot said:
“If Mrs. Welman had lived to make a will, how do you think she’d have left her money?”
“Ah, it’s not for me to be saying that,” said Nurse O’Brien, betraying, however, every symptom of being about to do so. “But it’s my opinion that every penny the old lady had would have gone to Mary Gerrard.”
“Why?” said Hercule Poirot.
The simple monosyllable seemed to upset Nurse O’Brien.
“Why? Is it why you’re asking? Well—I’d say that that would be the way of it.”
Poirot murmured:
“Some people might say that Mary Gerrard had played her cards very cleverly, that she had managed so to ingratiate herself with the old woman, as to make her forget the ties of blood and affection.”
“They might that,” said Nurse O’Brien slowly.
Poirot asked:
“Was Mary Gerrard a clever, scheming girl?”
Nurse O’Brien said, still rather slowly:
“I’ll not think that of her… All she did was natural enough, with no thought of scheming. She wasn’t that kind. And there’s reasons often for these things that never get made public….”
Hercule Poirot said softly:
“You are, I think, a very discreet woman, Nurse O’Brien.”