Five Little Pigs Part 7

'That was all?'

'Yes-I think so. Yes, I am sure of it,' Blake looked at him curiously. 'Who else should there be?'

'I thought perhaps the governess-'

'Oh, I see. No, she wasn't there that afternoon. I believe I've forgotten her name now. Nice women. Took her duties very seriously. Angela worried her a good deal I think.'

'Why was that?'

'Well, she was a nice kid, but she was inclined to run wild. Always up to something or other. Put a slug or something down Amyas's back one day when he was hard at work painting. He went up in smoke. Cursed her up and down dale. It was after that that he insisted on this school idea.'

'Sending her to school?'

'Yes. I don't mean he wasn't fond of her, but he found her a bit of a nuisance sometimes. And I think-I've always thought-'

'Yes?'

'That he was a bit jealous. Caroline, you see, was a slave to Angela. In a way, perhaps, Angela came first with her-and Amyas didn't like that. There was a reason for it of course. I won't go into that, but-'

Poirot interrupted.

'The reason being that Caroline Crale reproached herself for an action that had disfigured the girl?'

Blake exclaimed: 'Oh, you know that? I wasn't going to mention it. All over and done with. But yes, that was the cause of her att.i.tude I think. She always seemed to feel that there was nothing too much she could do-to make up, as it were.'

Poirot nodded thoughtfully. He asked: 'And Angela? Did she bear a grudge against her half sister?'

'Oh no, don't run away with that idea. Angela was devoted to Caroline. She never gave that old business a thought, I'm sure. It was just Caroline who couldn't forgive herself.'

'Did Angela take kindly to the idea of boarding school?'

'No, she didn't. She was furious with Amyas. Caroline took her side, but Amyas had absolutely made his mind up about it. In spite of a hot temper, Amyas was an easy man in most respects, but when he really got his back up, everyone had to give in. Both Caroline and Angela knuckled under.'

'She was to go to school-when?'

'The autumn term-they were getting her kit together, I remember. I suppose, if it hadn't been for the tragedy, she would have gone off a few days later. There was some talk of her packing on the morning of that day.'

Poirot said: 'And the governess?'

'What do you mean-the governess?'

'How did she like the idea? It deprived her of a job, did it not?'

'Yes-well, I suppose it did in a way. Little Carla used to do a few lessons, but of course she was only-what? Six or thereabouts. She had a nurse. They wouldn't have kept Miss Williams on for her. Yes, that's the name-Williams. Funny how things come back to you when you talk them over.'

'Yes, indeed. You are back now, are you not, in the past? You relive the scenes-the words that people said, their gestures-the expressions on their faces?'

Meredith Blake said slowly: 'In a way-yes...But there are gaps, you know...Great chunks missed out. I remember, for instance, the shock it was to me when I first learned that Amyas was going to leave Caroline-but I can't remember whether it was he who told me or Elsa. I do remember arguing with Elsa on the subject-trying to show her, I mean, that it was a pretty rotten thing to do. And she only laughed at me in that cool way of hers and said I was old fas.h.i.+oned. Well, I dare say I am am old fas.h.i.+oned, but I still think I was right. Amyas had a wife and child-he ought to have stuck to them.' old fas.h.i.+oned, but I still think I was right. Amyas had a wife and child-he ought to have stuck to them.'

'But Miss Greer thought that point of view out of date?'

'Yes. Mind you, sixteen years ago, divorce wasn't looked on quite so much as a matter of course as it is now. But Elsa was the kind of girl who went in for being modern. Her point of view was that when two people weren't happy together it was better to make a break. She said that Amyas and Caroline never stopped having rows and that it was far better for the child that she shouldn't be brought up in an atmosphere of disharmony.'

'And her argument did not impress you?'

Meredith Blake said slowly: 'I felt, all the time, that she didn't really know what she was talking about. She was rattling these things off-things she'd read in books or heard from her friends-it was like a parrot. She was-it's a queer thing to say-pathetic somehow. So young and so self-confident.' He paused. 'There is something about youth, M. Poirot, that is-that can be-terribly moving.'

Hercule Poirot said, looking at him with some interest: 'I know what you mean...'

Blake went on, speaking more to himself than to Poirot.

'That's partly, I think, why I tackled Crale. He was nearly twenty years older than the girl. It didn't seem fair.'

Poirot murmured: 'Alas-how seldom one makes any effect. When a person has determined on a certain course-it is not easy to turn them from it.'

Meredith Blake said: 'That is true enough.' His tone was a shade bitter. 'I certainly did no good by my interference. But then, I am not a very convincing person. I never have been.'

Poirot threw him a quick glance. He read into that slight acerbity of tone the dissatisfaction of a sensitive man with his own lack of personality. And he acknowledged to himself the truth of what Blake had just said. Meredith Blake was not the man to persuade any one into or out of any course. His well-meaning attempts would always be set aside-indulgently usually, without anger, but definitely set aside. They would not carry weight. He was essentially an ineffective man.

Poirot said, with an appearance of changing a painful subject: 'You still have your laboratory of medicines and cordials, yes?'

'No.'

The word came sharply-with an almost anguished rapidity Meridith Blake said, his face flus.h.i.+ng: 'I abandoned the whole thing-dismantled it. I couldn't go on with it-how could I?-after what had happened. The whole thing, you see, might have been said to be my my fault.' fault.'

'No, no, Mr Blake, you are too sensitive.'

'But don't you see? If I hadn't collected those d.a.m.ned drugs? If I hadn't laid stress on them-boasted about them-forced them on those people's notice that afternoon? But I never thought-I never dreamed-how could I-'

'How indeed.'

'But I went b.u.mbling on about them. Pleased with my little bit of knowledge. Blind, conceited fool. I pointed out that d.a.m.ned coniine. I even, fool that I was, took them back into the library and read them out that pa.s.sage from the Phaedo describing Socrates' death. A beautiful piece of writing-I've always admired it. But it's haunted me ever since.'

Poirot said: 'Did they find any fingerprints on the coniine bottle?'

'Hers.'

'Caroline Crale's?'

'Yes.'

'Not yours?'

'No. I didn't handle the bottle, you see. Only pointed to it.'

'But at the same time, surely, you had handled it?'

'Oh, of course, but I gave the bottles a periodic dusting from time to time-I never allowed the servants in there, of course-and I had done that about four or five days previously.'

'You kept the room locked up?'

'Invariably.'

'When did Caroline Crale take the coniine from the bottle?'

Meredith Blake replied reluctantly: 'She was the last to leave the room. I called her, I remember, and she came hurrying out. Her cheeks were just a little pink-and her eyes wide and excited. Oh, G.o.d, I can see her now.'

Poirot said: 'Did you have any conversation with her at all that afternoon? I mean by that, did you discuss the situation as between her and her husband at all?'

Blake said slowly in a low voice: 'Not directly. She was looking as I've told you-very upset. I said to her at a moment when we were more or less by ourselves: "Is anything the matter, my dear?" she said: "Everything's the matter..." I wish you could have heard the desperation in her voice. Those words were the absolute literal truth. There's no getting away from it-Amyas Crale was Caroline's whole world. She said, "Everything's gone-finished. I'm finished, Meredith." And then she laughed and turned to the others and was suddenly wildly and very unnaturally gay.'

Hercule Poirot nodded his head slowly. He looked very like a china mandarin. He said: 'Yes-I see-it was like that...'

Meredith Blake pounded suddenly with his fist. His voice rose. It was almost a shout.

'And I'll tell you this M. Poirot-when Caroline Crale said at the trial that she took the stuff for herself, I'll swear she was speaking the truth! There was no thought in her mind of murder at that time. I swear there wasn't. That came later.'

Hercule Poirot asked: 'Are you sure that it did did come later?' come later?'

Blake stared. He said: 'I beg your pardon? I don't quite understand-'

Poirot said: 'I ask you whether you are sure that the thought of murder ever did come? Are you perfectly convinced in your own mind that Caroline Crale did deliberately commit murder?'

Meredith Blake's breath came unevenly. He said: 'But if not-if not-are you suggesting an-well, accident of some kind?'

'Not necessarily.'

'That's a very extraordinary thing to say.'

'Is it? You have called Caroline Crale a gentle creature. Do gentle creatures commit murder?'

'She was a gentle creature-but all the same-well, there were very violent quarrels, you know.'

'Not such a gentle creature, then?'

'But she was was-Oh, how difficult these things are to explain.'

'I am trying to understand.'

'Caroline had a quick tongue-a vehement way of speaking. She might say "I hate you. I wish you were dead." But it wouldn't mean-it wouldn't entail-action.'

'So in your opinion, it was highly uncharacteristic of Mrs Crale to commit murder?'

'You have the most extraordinary ways of putting things, M. Poirot. I can only say that-yes-it does seem to me uncharacteristic of her. I can only explain it by realizing that the provocation was extreme. She adored her husband. Under those circ.u.mstances a woman might-well-kill.'

Poirot nodded. 'Yes, I agree...'

'I was dumbfounded at first. I didn't feel it could could be true. And it wasn't true-if you know what I mean-it wasn't the real Caroline who did that.' be true. And it wasn't true-if you know what I mean-it wasn't the real Caroline who did that.'

'But you are quite sure that-in the legal sense-Caroline Crale did do it?'

Again Meredith Blake stared at him.

'My dear man-if she didn't-'

'Well, if she didn't?'

'I can't imagine any alternative solution. Accident? Surely impossible.'

'Quite impossible, I should say.'

'And I can't believe in the suicide theory. It had to be brought forward, but it was quite unconvincing to any one who knew Crale.'

'Quite.'

'So what remains?' asked Meredith Blake.

Poirot said coolly: 'There remains the possibility of Amyas Crale having been killed by somebody else.'

'But that's absurd!'

'You think so?'

'I'm sure of it. Who would have wanted to kill him? Who could could have killed him?' have killed him?'

'You are more likely to know than I am.'

'But you don't seriously believe-'

'Perhaps not. It interests me to examine the possibility. Give it your serious consideration. Tell me what you think.'

Meredith stared at him for a minute or two. Then he lowered his eyes. After a minute or two he shook his head. He said: 'I can't imagine any any possible alternative. I should like to do so. If there were any reason for suspecting anybody else I would readily believe Caroline innocent. I don't want to think she did it. I couldn't believe it at first. But who else is there? Who else was there. Philip? Crale's best friend. Elsa? Ridiculous. Myself? Do I look like a murderer? A respectable governess? A couple of old faithful servants? Perhaps you'd suggest that the child Angela did it? No, M. Poirot, there's possible alternative. I should like to do so. If there were any reason for suspecting anybody else I would readily believe Caroline innocent. I don't want to think she did it. I couldn't believe it at first. But who else is there? Who else was there. Philip? Crale's best friend. Elsa? Ridiculous. Myself? Do I look like a murderer? A respectable governess? A couple of old faithful servants? Perhaps you'd suggest that the child Angela did it? No, M. Poirot, there's no no alternative. alternative. n.o.body n.o.body could have killed Amyas Crale but his wife. But he drove her to it. And so, in a way, it was suicide after all, I suppose.' could have killed Amyas Crale but his wife. But he drove her to it. And so, in a way, it was suicide after all, I suppose.'

'Meaning that he died by the result of his own actions, though not by his own hand?'

'Yes, it's a fanciful point of view, perhaps. But-well-cause and effect, you know.'

Hercule Poirot said: 'Have you ever reflected, Mr Blake, that the reason for murder is nearly always to be found by a study of the person murdered?'

'I hadn't exactly-yes, I suppose I see what you mean.'

Poirot said: 'Until you know exactly what sort of a person the victim was what sort of a person the victim was, you cannot begin to see the circ.u.mstances of a crime clearly.'

He added: 'That is what I am seeking for-and what you and your brother have helped to give me-a reconstruction of the man Amyas Crale.'

Meredith Blake pa.s.sed the main point of the remark over. His attention had been attracted by a single word. He said quickly: 'Philip?'

'Yes.'