Agatha Christie - Cards on the Table

"You did not kill Shaitana," he said softly. "I see that now. I see everything. Harley Street. And little Anne Meredith standing forlorn on the pavement. I see, too, another girl – a very long time ago. A girl who has gone through life always alone, terribly alone. Yes, I see all that. But one thing I do not see – why are you so certain that Anne Meredith did it?"

"Really, Monsieur Poirot -"

"Absolutely useless to protest, to lie further to me, madame. I tell you I know the truth. I know the very emotions that swept over you that day in Harley Street. You would not have done it for Doctor Roberts – oh, no! You would not have done it for Major Despard non plus. But Anne Meredith is different. You have compassion for her because she has done what you once did. You do not know even – or so I imagine – what reason she had for the crime. But you are quite sure she did it. You were sure that first evening, the evening it happened, when Superintendent Battle invited you to give your views on the case. Yes, I know it all, you see. It is quite useless to lie further to me. You see that, do you not?" He paused for an answer, but none came. He nodded his head in satisfaction.

"Yes, you are sensible. That is good. It is a very noble action that you perform there, madame, to take the blame on yourself and to let this child escape."

"You forget," said Mrs. Lorrimer in a dry voice. "I am not an innocent woman. Years ago, Monsieur Poirot, I killed my husband."

There was a moment's silence.

"I see," said Poirot. "It is justice. After all only justice. You have the logical mind. You are willing to suffer for the act you committed. Murder is murder – it does not matter who the victim is. Madame, you have courage and you have clear-sightedness. But I ask of you once more, How can you be so sure? How do you know that it was Anne Meredith who killed Mr. Shaitana?"

A deep sigh broke from Mrs. Lorrimer. Her last resistance had gone down before Poirot's insistence. She answered his question quite simply like a child.

"Because," she said, "I saw her."

Suddenly Poirot laughed. He could not help it. His head went back and his high Gallic laugh filled the room. "Pardon, madame," he said, wiping his eyes. "I could not help it. Here we argue and we reason! We ask questions! We invoke the psychology – and all the time there was an eyewitness of the crime. Tell me, I pray of you."

"It was fairly late in the evening. Anne Meredith was dummy. She got up and looked over her partner's hand and then she moved about the room. The hand wasn't very interesting – the conclusion was inevitable. I didn't need to concentrate on the cards. Just as we got to the last three tricks I looked over toward the fireplace. Anne Meredith was bent over Mr. Shaitana. As I watched she straightened herself – her hand had been actually on his breast – a gesture which awakened my surprise. She straightened herself and I saw her face, and her quick look over toward us. Guilt and fear – that is what I saw on her face. Of course, I didn't know what had happened then. I only wondered what on earth the girl could have been doing. Later – I knew."

Poirot nodded. "But she did not know that you knew. She did not know that you had seen her?"

"Poor child," said Mrs. Lorrimer. "Young, frightened – her way to make in the world. Do you wonder that I – well, held my tongue?"

"No, no, I do not wonder."

"Especially knowing that I – that I myself -" She finished the sentence with a shrug. "It was certainly not my place to stand accuser. It was up to the police."

"Quite so, but today you have gone further than that."

Mrs. Lorrimer said grimly, "I've never been a very soft-hearted or compassionate woman, but I suppose these qualities grow upon one in one's old age. I assure you I'm not often actuated by pity."

"It is not always a very safe guide, madame. Mademoiselle Anne is young, she is fragile, she looks timid and frightened – oh, yes, she seems a very worthy subject for compassion. But I, I do not agree. Shall I tell you, madame, why Miss Anne Meredith killed Mr. Shaitana? It was because he knew that she had previously killed an elderly lady to whom she was companion – because that lady had found her out in a petty theft."

Mrs. Lorrimer looked a little startled.

"Is that true, Monsieur Poirot?"

"I have no doubt of it whatsoever. She is so soft – so gentle – one would say. Pah! she is dangerous, madame, that little Mademoiselle Anne! Where her own safety, her own comfort, is concerned, she will strike wildly, treacherously. With Mademoiselle Anne those two crimes will not be the end. She will gain confidence from them."

Mrs. Lorrimer said sharply, "What you say is horrible, Monsieur Poirot. Horrible!"

Poirot rose. "Madame, I will now take my leave. Reflect on what I have said."

Mrs. Lorrimer was looking a little uncertain of herself. She said, with an attempt at her old manner, "If it suits me, Monsieur Poirot, I shall deny this whole conversation. You have no witnesses, remember. What I have just told you that I saw on that fatal evening is – well, private between ourselves."

Poirot said gravely, "Nothing shall be done without your consent madame. And be at peace, I have my own methods. Now that I know what I am driving at -"

He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

"Permit me to tell you, madame, that you are a most remarkable woman. All my homage and respects. Yes, indeed a woman in a thousand. Why, you have not even done what nine hundred and ninety-nine women out of a thousand could not have resisted doing."

"What is that?"

"Told me just why you killed your husband – and how entirely justified such a proceeding really was!"

Mrs. Lorrimer drew herself up.

"Really, Monsieur Poirot," she said stiffly, "my reasons were entirely my own business."

"Magnifique!" said Poirot and, once more raising her hand to his lips, he left the room.

It was cold outside the house and he looked up and down for a taxi but there was none in sight. He began to walk in the direction of Kings Road. As he walked he was thinking hard. Occasionally he nodded his head, once he shook it.

He looked back over his shoulder. Someone was going up the steps of Mrs. Lorrimer's house. In figure it looked very like Anne Meredlth. He hesitated for a minute, wondering whether to turn back or not, but in the end he went on.

On arrival at home he found that Battle had gone without leaving any message. He proceeded to ring the superintendent up. "Hullo." Battle 's voice came through. "Got anything?"

"Je crois bien. Mon ami, we must get after the Meredith girl – and quickly."

"I'm getting after her – but why quickly?"

"Because, my friend, she may be dangerous."

Battle was silent for a minute or two. Then he said, "I know what you mean. But there's no one – Oh, well, we mustn't take chances. As a matter of fact I've written her. Official note saying I'm calling to see her tomorrow. I thought it might be a good thing to get her rattled."

"It is a possibility at least. I may accompany you?"

"Naturally. Honored to have your company, Monsieur Poirot."

Poirot hung up the receiver with a thoughtful face.

His mind was not quite at rest. He sat for a long time in front of his fire, frowning to himself. At last, putting his fears and doubts aside, he went to bed.

"We will see in the morning," he murmured.

But, of what the morning would bring, he had no idea.

The summons came by telephone at the moment when Poirot was sitting down to his morning coffee and rolls. He lifted the telephone receiver and Battle 's voice spoke. "That Monsieur Poirot?"