Colonel Weston asked:
‘Redfern’s wife is one of them, I suppose?’
‘Yes. Mrs Redfern might have made up her mind to kill Arlena Stuart. She had, let us say, ample cause. I think, too, that it would be possible for Mrs Redfern to commit a murder. But not this kind of murder. For all her unhappiness and jealousy, she is not, I should say, a woman of strong passions. In love, she would be devoted and loyal-not passionate. As I said just now-arsenic in the teacup, possibly-strangulation, no. I am sure, also, that she is physically incapable of committing this crime, her hands and feet are small, below the average.’
Weston nodded. He said:
‘This isn’t a woman’s crime. No, a man did this.’
Inspector Colgate coughed.
‘Let me put forward a solution, sir. Say that prior to meeting this Mr Redfern the lady had had another affair with someone-call him X. She turns X down for Mr Redfern. X is mad with rage and jealousy. He follows her down here, stays somewhere in the neighbourhood, comes over to the island, does her in. It’s a possibility!’
Weston said:
‘It’spossible, all right. And if it’s true, it ought to be easy to prove. Did he come on foot or in a boat? The latter seems more likely. If so, he must have hired a boat somewhere. You’d better make inquiries.’
He looked across at Poirot.
‘What do you think of Colgate’s suggestion?’
Poirot said slowly:
‘It leaves, somehow, too much to chance. And besides-somewhere the picture is not true. I cannot, you see, imagine this man…the man who is mad with rage and jealousy.’
Colgate said:
‘Peopledid go potty about her, though, sir. Look at Redfern.’
‘Yes, yes…But all the same-’
Colgate looked at him questioningly.
Poirot shook his head.
He said, frowning:
‘Somewhere, there is something that we have missed…’
Chapter 6
I
Colonel Weston was poring over the hotel register.
He read aloud:
‘Major and Mrs Cowan,
Miss Pamela Cowan,
Master Robert Cowan,
Master Evan Cowan,
Rydal’s Mount, Leatherhead.
Mr and Mrs Masterman,
Mr Edward Masterman,
Miss Jennifer Masterman,
Mr Roy Masterman,
Master Frederick Masterman,
5 Marlborough Avenue, London, N.W.
Mr and Mrs Gardener,
New York.
II
Colonel Weston sighed, shook his head and said:
‘Well, we can go into theories later. Got to get through these interviews now. Got to get it down in black and white where everyone was. I suppose we’d better see the Marshall girl now. She might be able to tell us something useful.’
Linda Marshall came into the room clumsily, knocking against the doorpost. She was breathing quickly and the pupils of her eyes were dilated. She looked like a startled young colt. Colonel Weston felt a kindly impulse towards her.
He thought:
‘Poor kid-she’s nothing but a kid after all. This must have been a pretty bad shock to her.’
He drew up a chair and said in a reassuring voice.
‘Sorry to put you through this, Miss-Linda, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Linda.’
Her voice had that indrawn breathy quality that is often characteristic of schoolgirls. Her hands rested helplessly on the table in front of him-pathetic hands, big and red, with large bones and long wrists. Weston thought:
‘A kid oughtn’t to be mixed up in this sort of thing.’
He said reassuringly.
‘There’s nothing very alarming about all this. We just want you to tell us anything you know that might be useful, that’s all.’
Linda said:
‘You mean-about Arlena?’
‘Yes. Did you see her this morning at all?’
The girl shook her head.
‘No. Arlena always gets down rather late. She has breakfast in bed.’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘And you, Mademoiselle?’
‘Oh, I get up. Breakfast in bed’s sostuffy.’
Weston said:
‘Will you tell us what you did this morning?’
‘Well, I had a bathe first and then breakfast, and then I went with Mrs Redfern to Gull Cove.’
Weston said:
‘What time did you and Mrs Redfern start?’
‘She said she’d be waiting for me in the hall at half-past ten. I was afraid I was going to be late, but it was all right. We started off at about three minutes to the half-hour.’
Poirot said:
‘And what did you do at Gull Cove?’
‘Oh, I oiled myself and sunbathed and Mrs Redfern sketched. Then, later, I went into the sea and Christine went back to the hotel to get changed for tennis.’
Weston said, keeping his voice quite casual:
‘Do you remember what time that was?’
‘When Mrs Redfern went back to the hotel? Quarter to twelve.’
‘Sure of that time-quarter to twelve?’
Linda, opening her eyes wide, said:
‘Ohyes. I looked at my watch.’
‘The watch you have on now?’
Linda glanced down at her wrist.
‘Yes.’
Weston said:
‘Mind if I see?’
She held out her wrist. He compared the watch with his own and with the hotel clock on the wall.
He said, smiling:
‘Correct to a second. And after that you had a bathe?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you got back to the hotel-when?’
‘Just about one o’clock. And-and then-I heard-about Arlena…’
Her voice changed.
Colonel Weston said:
‘Did you-er-get on with your stepmother all right?’
She looked at him for a minute without replying. Then she said:
‘Oh yes.’
Poirot asked:
‘Did you like her, Mademoiselle?’
Linda said again:
‘Oh yes.’ She added: ‘Arlena was quite kind to me.’
Weston said with rather uneasy facetiousness.
‘Not the cruel stepmother, eh?’
Linda shook her head without smiling.
Weston said:
‘That’s good. That’s good. Sometimes, you know, there’s a bit of difficulty in families-jealousy-all that. Girl and her father great pals and then she resents it a bit when he’s all wrapped up in the new wife. You didn’t feel like that, eh?’
Linda stared at him. She said with obvious sincerity:
‘Oh no.’
Weston said: