I expressed my appreciation, and John took me into the house and up the broad staircase, which forked right and left half way to different wings of the building. My room was in the left wing, and looked out over the park.
John left me, and a few minutes later I saw him from my window walking slowly across the grass arm in arm with Cynthia Murdoch. I heard Mrs Inglethorp call Cynthia impatiently, and the girl started and ran back to the house. At the same moment, a man stepped out from the shadow of a tree and walked slowly in the same direction. He looked about forty, very dark with a melancholy clean-shaven face. Some violent emotion seemed to be mastering him. He looked up at my window as he passed, and I recognized him, though he had changed much in the fifteen years that had elapsed since we last met. It was Johns younger brother, Lawrence Cavendish. I wondered what it was that had brought that singular expression to his face.
Then I dismissed him from my mind, and returned to the contemplation of my own affairs.
The evening passed pleasantly enough; and I dreamed that night of that enigmatical woman, Mary Cavendish.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and I was full of the anticipation of a delightful visit.
I did not see Mrs Cavendish until lunch-time, when she volunteered to take me for a walk, and we spent a charming afternoon roaming in the woods, returning to the house about five.
As we entered the large hall, John beckoned us both into the smoking room. I saw at once by his face that something disturbing had occurred. We followed him in, and he shut the door after us.
Look here, Mary, theres the deuce of a mess[19]. Evies had a row with Alfred Inglethorp, and shes off.
Evie? Off ?
John nodded gloomily.
Yes; you see she went to the mater, andoh, heres Evie herself.
Miss Howard entered. Her lips were set grimly together, and she carried a small suitcase. She looked excited and determined, and slightly on the defensive.
At any rate, she burst out, Ive spoken my mind![20]
My dear Evelyn, cried Mrs Cavendish, this cant be true!
Miss Howard nodded grimly.
True enough! Afraid I said some things to Emily she wont forget or forgive in a hurry. Dont mind if theyve only sunk in a bit. Probably water off a ducks back[21], though. I said right out: Youre an old woman, Emily, and theres no fool like an old fool. The mans twenty years younger than you, and dont you fool yourself as to what he married you for. Money! Well, dont let him have too much of it. Farmer Raikes has got a very pretty young wife. Just ask your Alfred how much time he spends over there. She was very angry. Natural! I went on: Im going to warn you, whether you like it or not. That man would as soon murder you in your bed as look at you. Hes a bad lot[22]. You can say what you like to me, but remember what Ive told you. Hes a bad lot!
What did she say?
Miss Howard made an extremely expressive grimace.
Darling Alfreddearest Alfredwicked calumnies wicked lieswicked womanto accuse her dear husband! The sooner I left her house the better. So Im off.
But not now?
This minute!
For a moment we sat and stared at her. Finally John Cavendish, finding his persuasions of no avail, went off to look up the trains. His wife followed him, murmuring something about persuading Mrs Inglethorp to think better of it.
As she left the room, Miss Howards face changed. She leant towards me eagerly.
Mr Hastings, youre honest. I can trust you?
I was a little startled. She laid her hand on my arm, and sank her voice to a whisper.
Look after her, Mr Hastings. My poor Emily. Theyre a lot of sharksall of them. Oh, I know what Im talking about. There isnt one of them thats not hard up and trying to get money out of her. Ive protected her as much as I could. Now Im out of the way, theyll impose upon her.
Of course, Miss Howard, I said, Ill do everything I can, but Im sure youre excited and overwrought.
She interrupted me by slowly shaking her forefinger.
Young man, trust me. Ive lived in the world rather longer than you have. All I ask you is to keep your eyes open. Youll see what I mean.
The throb of the motor came through the open window, and Miss Howard rose and moved to the door. Johns voice sounded outside. With her hand on the handle, she turned her head over her shoulder, and beckoned to me.
Above all, Mr Hastings, watch that devilher husband!
There was no time for more. Miss Howard was swallowed up in an eager chorus of protests and goodbyes. The Inglethorps did not appear.
As the motor drove away, Mrs Cavendish suddenly detached herself from the group, and moved across the drive to the lawn to meet a tall bearded man who had been evidently making for the house. The colour rose in her cheeks as she held out her hand to him.
Who is that? I asked sharply, for instinctively I distrusted the man.
Thats Dr Bauerstein, said John shortly.
And who is Dr Bauerstein?
Hes staying in the village doing a rest cure, after a bad nervous breakdown. Hes a London specialist; a very clever manone of the greatest living experts on poisons, I believe.
And hes a great friend of Marys, put in Cynthia, the irrepressible.
John Cavendish frowned and changed the subject.
Come for a stroll, Hastings. This has been a most rotten business. She always had a rough tongue, but there is no stauncher friend in England than Evelyn Howard.
He took the path through the plantation, and we walked down to the village through the woods which bordered one side of the estate.
As we passed through one of the gates on our way home again, a pretty young woman of gipsy type coming in the opposite direction bowed and smiled.
Thats a pretty girl, I remarked appreciatively.
Johns face hardened.
That is Mrs Raikes.
The one that Miss Howard
Exactly, said John, with rather unnecessary abruptness.
I thought of the white-haired old lady in the big house, and that vivid wicked little face that had just smiled into ours, and a vague chill of foreboding crept over me. I brushed it aside.
Styles is really a glorious old place, I said to John.
He nodded rather gloomily.
Yes, its a fine property. Itll be mine some dayshould be mine now by rights, if my father had only made a decent will. And then I shouldnt be so damned hard up[23] as I am now.
Hard up, are you?
My dear Hastings, I dont mind telling you that Im at my wits end for money[24].
Couldnt your brother help you?
Lawrence? Hes gone through every penny he ever had, publishing rotten verses in fancy bindings. No, were an impecunious lot. My mothers always been awfully good to us, I must say. That is, up to now. Since her marriage, of course He broke off, frowning.
For the first time I felt that, with Evelyn Howard, something indefinable had gone from the atmosphere.
Her presence had spelt security. Now that security was removedand the air seemed rife with suspicion. The sinister face of Dr Bauerstein recurred to me unpleasantly. A vague suspicion of everyone and everything filled my mind. Just for a moment I had a premonition of approaching evil.
CHAPTER 2. The 16th and 17th of July
I had arrived at Styles on the 5th of July. I come now to the events of the 16th and 17th of that month. For the convenience of the reader I will recapitulate the incidents of those days in as exact a manner as possible. They were elicited subsequently at the trial by a process of long and tedious cross-examinations.
I received a letter from Evelyn Howard a couple of days after her departure, telling me she was working as a nurse at the big hospital in Middlingham, a manufacturing town some fifteen miles away, and begging me to let her know if Mrs Inglethorp should show any wish to be reconciled.
The only fly in the ointment[25] of my peaceful days was Mrs Cavendishs extraordinary and, for my part, unaccountable preference for the society of Dr Bauerstein. What she saw in the man I cannot imagine, but she was always asking him up to the house, and often went off for long expeditions with him. I must confess that I was quite unable to see his attraction.
The 16th of July fell on a Monday. It was a day of turmoil. The famous bazaar had taken place on Saturday, and an entertainment, in connection with the same charity, at which Mrs Inglethorp was to recite a War poem, was to be held that night. We were all busy during the morning arranging and decorating the Hall in the village where it was to take place. We had a late luncheon and spent the afternoon resting in the garden. I noticed that Johns manner was somewhat unusual. He seemed very excited and restless.
After tea, Mrs Inglethorp went to lie down to rest before her efforts in the evening and I challenged Mary Cavendish to a single at tennis.
About a quarter to seven, Mrs Inglethorp called to us that we should be late as supper was early that night. We had rather a scramble to get ready in time; and before the meal was over the motor was waiting at the door.
The entertainment was a great success, Mrs Inglethorps recitation receiving tremendous applause. There were also some tableaux[26] in which Cynthia took part. She did not return with us, having been asked to a supper party, and to remain the night with some friends who had been acting with her in the tableaux.
The following morning, Mrs Inglethorp stayed in bed to breakfast, as she was rather over-tired; but she appeared in her briskest mood about 12.30, and swept Lawrence and myself off to a luncheon party.
Such a charming invitation from Mrs Rolleston. Lady Tadminsters sister, you know. The Rollestons came over with the Conquerorone of our oldest families.
Mary had excused herself on the plea of an engagement with Dr Bauerstein.
We had a pleasant luncheon, and as we drove away Lawrence suggested that we should return by Tadminster, which was barely a mile out of our way, and pay a visit to Cynthia in her dispensary. Mrs Inglethorp replied that this was an excellent idea, but as she had several letters to write she would drop us there, and we could come back with Cynthia in the pony-trap[27].
We were detained under suspicion by the hospital porter, until Cynthia appeared to vouch for us, looking very cool and sweet in her long white overall. She took us up to her sanctum, and introduced us to her fellow dispenser, a rather awe-inspiring individual, whom Cynthia cheerily addressed as Nibs.
What a lot of bottles! I exclaimed, as my eye travelled round the small room. Do you really know whats in them all?
Say something original, groaned Cynthia. Every single person who comes up here says that. We are really thinking of bestowing a prize on the first individual who does not say: What a lot of bottles! And I know the next thing youre going to say is: How many people have you poisoned?
I pleaded guilty with a laugh.
If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison someone by mistake, you wouldnt joke about it. Come on, lets have tea. Weve got all sorts of secret stores in that cupboard. No, Lawrencethats the poison cupboard. The big cupboardthats right.
We had a very cheery tea, and assisted Cynthia to wash up afterwards. We had just put away the last teaspoon when a knock came at the door. The countenances of Cynthia and Nibs were suddenly petrified into a stern and forbidding expression[28].
Come in, said Cynthia, in a sharp professional tone.
A young and rather scared-looking nurse appeared with a bottle which she proffered to Nibs, who waved her towards Cynthia with the somewhat enigmatical remark:
Im not really here today.
Cynthia took the bottle and examined it with the severity of a judge.
This should have been sent up this morning.
Sister is very sorry. She forgot.
Sister should read the rules outside the door.
I gathered from the little nurses expression that there was not the least likelihood of her having the hardihood to retail this message to the dreaded Sister.
So now it cant be done until tomorrow, finished Cynthia.
Dont you think you could possibly let us have it tonight?
Well, said Cynthia graciously, we are very busy, but if we have time it shall be done.
The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia promptly took a jar from the shelf, refilled the bottle, and placed it on the table outside the door.
I laughed.
Discipline must be maintained?
Exactly. Come out on our little balcony. You can see all the outside wards there.
I followed Cynthia and her friend and they pointed out the different wards to me. Lawrence remained behind, but after a few moments Cynthia called to him over her shoulder to come and join us. Then she looked at her watch.
Nothing more to do, Nibs?
No.
All right. Then we can lock up and go.
I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon. Compared to John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to get to know. He was the opposite of his brother in almost every respect, being unusually shy and reserved. Yet he had a certain charm of manner[29], and I fancied that, if one really knew him well, one could have a deep affection for him. I had always fancied that his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained, and that she on her side was inclined to be shy of him. But they were both gay enough this afternoon, and chatted together like a couple of children.
As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps, so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.
As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering. I drew aside and apologized, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, he clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly.
Mon ami[30] Hastings! he cried. It is indeed mon ami Hastings!
Poirot! I exclaimed.
I turned to the pony-trap.
This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This is my old friend, Monsieur[31] Poirot, whom I have not seen for years.
Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot, said Cynthia gaily. But I had no idea he was a friend of yours.
Yes, indeed, said Poirot seriously. I know Mademoiselle[32] Cynthia. It is by the charity of that good Mrs Inglethorp that I am here. Then, as I looked at him inquiringly: Yes, my friend, she had kindly extended hospitality to seven of my country-people who, alas, are refugees from their native land. We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude.
Poirot was an extraordinary-looking little man. He was hardly more than five feet four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he always perched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible; I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than a bullet wound. Yet this quaint dandified little man who, I was sorry to see, now limped badly, had been in his time one of the most celebrated members of the Belgian police. As a detective, his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achieved triumphs by unravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day.
He pointed out to me the little house inhabited by him and his fellow Belgians, and I promised to go and see him at an early date. Then he raised his hat with a flourish to Cynthia, and we drove away.
Hes a dear little man, said Cynthia. Id no idea you knew him.
Youve been entertaining a celebrity unawares[33], I replied.
And, for the rest of the way home, I recited to them the various exploits and triumphs of Hercule Poirot.