Chapter 8 chapter eight

Mr Entwhistle looked intently at Dr Laraby.He had a lifetime of experience in sizing up people.Have often come across difficult situations or delicate topics.Now he is a master at applying the right technique.What is the best way to deal with Dr. Larabi now?He was faced with a difficult subject, one that a doctor might take to be skeptical of his skill and furious? A confession, Mr. Entwhistle thought... at least an embellished confession.Let's say some people have doubts about Richard's death, because some silly girl occasionally hinted at it, and it probably won't do him good.Dr. Lai Rabi did not know Kona.

Mr Entwhistle cleared his throat and spoke boldly. "I want to ask you a very delicate thing," he said. "It may offend you, but I sincerely hope not. You're a reasonable man and I'm sure you'll understand that it's better to respond positively to a...uh...absurd suggestion than to get angry Damn. This is about my client, the dead Mr. Abernethir. I want to ask you a blunt question. Are you sure, absolutely sure that he died of natural causes?" Dr. Lai Rabi turned to the questioner with a face of a kind and rosy middle-aged man, full of astonishment. "Are you... of course he died of natural causes. I have a certificate, haven't I? If I'm not sure..."

Mr. Entwhistle interrupted him artfully: "Of course, of course. I assure you I have absolutely nothing to the contrary. But I just want your positive affirmation... when the rumors are flying." "Rumor? What rumor?" "Don't know how it got started," Mr. Entwhistle lied, "but I personally feel that it ought to be stopped...by authority, if possible." "Abernethier is a sick man. He suffers from a fatal disease which has proven incurable and will, I daresay, die in two years at the earliest. Or sooner. His son's death has weakened his existence. Will, and his resistance to disease. I confess I did not expect him to die so quickly, or so suddenly, but there are precedents... many precedents. Anyone who accurately predicts when a patient will die, or he Doctors who will live long are deluding themselves. The human factor is unpredictable. The weak are often surprisingly resistant, and the strong sometimes die."

"I understand. I don't doubt your diagnosis. Mr. Abernethy is, let's put it this way ... (I'm afraid it's a bit dramatic) ... sentenced to death. I'm just asking you, a man who knows or suspects he has Is it impossible for a man with weak rejuvenation to shorten his own life? Or is it possible for someone else to do it for him?" Dr. Lai Rabi frowned. "You mean, suicide? Abernethir is not a suicidal type." "I understand. You can assure me that such a thing is medically impossible." The doctor looked disturbed. "I wouldn't use the word 'impossible'. After the death of his son, life was not interesting for Abernethir. I certainly don't think suicide is possible...but I can't say for sure either. impossible."

"You speak from a psychological point of view. When I say medically, do I really mean that such a thing was impossible in the circumstances of his death?" "No, oh no. No, I can't say that. He died in his sleep, as people often do. There's no reason to suspect suicide, and as far as his state of mind is concerned, there's no evidence. If every seriously ill person dies in his sleep An autopsy is required, then..." The doctor's face was getting redder and redder.Mr Entwhistle interrupted hastily. "Of course, of course. But what if there's evidence .

"Said he wanted to kill himself? Did he say that? I must say it surprised me." "But if that's the case... I'm purely hypothetical... Can you rule that out?" Dr. Lai Raby said slowly: "No... no... I can't do it. But I repeat, I'd be very surprised." Mr. Entwhistle seized this favorable opportunity. "So, if we assume he didn't die of natural causes... (which is purely hypothetical)... what could have caused it? I mean, what drug?" "There are several. It may be some kind of anesthetic. There is no sign of chlorosis, and the death is quite peaceful."

"Is he taking sleeping pills or something?" "Yes. I prescribed a sleeping pill...a very safe and reliable sleeping pill. He didn't have to take it every night, and he was given a small bottle at a time. Even three or four at a time That's not enough to kill him. In fact, after he died, I saw that the medicine bottle on his washstand was almost full." "What medicine did you prescribe for him?" "Several . . . a drug with a little morphine for him when he's in pain, some vitamin capsules, a drug for digestion." Mr Entwhistle interrupted:

"Vitamin capsules? I think I've taken them, little round capsules." "Yes, it contains vitamin B6." "Is it possible that one of them contained something else?" "You mean, something fatal?" The doctor looked more and more surprised. "But of course no one would... Listen to me, Entwhistle, what the hell are you doing? My God, you, are you implying murder?" "I don't quite know what I'm implying ... I just want to know what's possible." "But what evidence do you have for such an allusion?" "I have no proof," said Mr. Entwhistle wearily. "Mr. Abernethir is dead...and the people who heard him mention it are dead. It's just a rumour...a dubious, unsatisfactory rumour, and I'm going to kill it as much as I can. If you can tell me , no one could possibly poison Abernethir by any means, and I would be glad! That would take a great deal off my mind, I can assure you."

Dr. Rabi stood up and walked up and down. "I can't tell you what you want me to tell you," he finally said, "I wish I could. Of course, it's possible. Anyone could pull the fat out of the capsule and replace it with… ...Like...pure nicotine or something like half a dozen or more. Or maybe something in his food and drink, wouldn't that be more likely?" "Maybe. But you know he died with only the servants in the house...and I don't think it was the servants...in fact I'm pretty sure it wasn't them. So what I'm looking for is something that might come on after a while. I Think, there is no medicine that people can take, and they die after a week?"

"It's a very convenient idea... but I'm afraid it won't work," said the doctor coldly. "I know you're a conscientious man, Entwhistle, but who's suggesting that? It seems so far-fetched to me." "What didn't Abernethir say to you? Never hinted that his relatives might want to get rid of him?" The doctor stared at him in astonishment. "No, he never told me. Entwhistle, are you sure this isn't someone deliberately...uh, creating a sensational incident? You know, some hysterical people look quite normal and rational on the surface."

"I hope so, and it may indeed be so." "I'll think about it. Somebody claims that Abernethie told her... a woman, I suppose?" "Oh, yes, a woman." "...told her that someone was trying to kill him?" Mr. Entwhistle was cornered and reluctantly told him what Cora had said at the funeral, and Dr. Lai Raby's face brightened. "My good Benedict. I'll ignore it! It's quite simple. Women get to a certain stage... they become unstable, unbalanced, unreliable... anything is possible. They really are, you To know!" Mr. Entwhistle was indignant at the easy judgment of the doctor.He himself had dealt with too many thrill-seeking, hysterical women. "You may be right," he said, standing up. "It's a pity that she herself was murdered. We have no way to prove it." "What . "You may have seen it in the papers, Mrs. Lansquenet, of Richter St. Mary, Berkshire." "Of course... I didn't expect that she was a relative of Richard Abernether!" Dr. Lai Raby was quite shocked. Mr. Entwhistle felt that he had avenged the doctor's sense of professional superiority, and at the same time made a futile trip for himself. He was unhappy that the doubts in his heart had not been clarified, so he left. Mr Entwhistle returned to Enderby and decided to speak to Lanscamber. He started by asking the old master and servant what plans he had for the future. "Mrs. Leo wants me to stay here until the house is sold, sir, and I'm sure I'll be happy to do her bidding. We're all very fond of Mrs. Leo." He sighed. "I am deeply sorry, sir, if you will forgive me for saying this, that this house has had to be sold. I have been here all these years and have seen all the young ladies and gentlemen grow up here. I have often thought of Mo Mr. Timber will succeed his father and perhaps start a new family here too. It's all arranged, sir, and I'm going to live in the cottage up north when I retire. A very nice little house... I'm very much looking forward to that day came, but now I think it is a thing of the past." "I'm afraid so, Lanscamber, it's all going to have to be sold. But your share of the inheritance..." "Oh, I'm not complaining, sir, and I'm grateful for Mr. Abernether's generosity. He gives me a good pension, but it's not easy to buy a small house these days, and although my married niece wants me Live with them, but it's not the same as living here." "I know," said Mr. Entwhistle. "It's a grim new world for us old folks and I wish I had seen more of my old friend before he was gone. How did he look in his last few months?" "Oh, he's not what he used to be, sir, since Mr. Mortimer's death." "No, he actually broke down. And then he became a patient...a patient who sometimes had wild thoughts, and I think Mr. Abernethy suffered from that in his last days. He sometimes referred to Enemy, mentioned that someone was trying to hurt him—maybe? He might even think his food was tampered with?" Old Lanscamber looked surprised...surprised and offended. "I can't recall such a thing, sir." Mr Entwhistle watched him. "I know you are a loyal servant, Lanscomber. But Mr. Abernethor's hallucinations are... er... nothing serious... It's a natural symptom of... er... certain diseases." "Really, sir? All I can say is that Mr. Abernether never said anything like that to me, nor did I hear it." Mr. Entwhistle quietly moved on to another subject. "He got some family to live with him before he died, didn't he? His nephews, his nieces and their husbands?" "Yes, sir, that's right." "Is he satisfied with their visit? Or disappointed?" Lanscambe's eyes narrowed and his back stiffened. "I can't really say, sir." "I think you can, you know," said Mr Entwhistle mildly. "You can't say in your position...that's what you really mean, but sometimes one has to work around it. I'm an old friend of your master, and I care about him very much, as do you. That's why I take you as A man, not a master and a servant, has come to seek your opinion." Lanscambe was silent for a while, then said in a flat tone: "Is there something... wrong, sir?" Mr. Entwhistle answered truthfully. "I don't know," he said. "I hope not, I just want to make sure, do you yourself feel that there is something... wrong?" "Only after the funeral, and I can't tell what exactly. But Mrs. Leo and Mrs. Timothy, they were different that night after the others were gone." "You know the contents of the will?" "Yes, sir. Mrs. Leo thought I wanted to know, so she told me. If I may comment, it seems to me a very fair will." "Yes, it is fair, and the interests are equally divided. However, I said that it was not the will that Mr. Abernethir originally wanted to make after his son died. Now do you want to answer the question I just asked you?" "In my personal opinion..." "Yes, yes, I have said that." "The master was very disappointed after Mr. George was here, sir... he himself wished, I think, that Mr. George would be like Mr. Mortimer. Mr. George, if I may say so, was not quite up to standard. Miss Laura's Sirs are never satisfactory, and I'm afraid Mr George is like him." Lanscamber paused and then went on, "Then the two young ladies and their husbands came. He saw Miss Susan first... ...a very spirited, pretty young lady, but my opinion is that he couldn't stand her sir. Young ladies choose ridiculous husbands these days, sir." "What about the other one?" "That's all I can say. A nice, pleasant young couple. I think the master is glad they're here. . . . But I think . . . " The old man hesitated. "How about it, Lanscomber?" "Oh, the master has never been very much involved with the stage. He said to me the other day, 'I don't understand why anyone would make a living on the stage, it's a fool's life, it seems to take away any feeling. I don't know what that does to your moral sense, but of course you lose your sense of balance,' of course he didn't directly mean..." "No, no, I know. After they had all been here, Mr. Abernether left on his own... first to his brother, and then to his sister, Mrs. Lansquenet." "I don't know that, sir. I mean he mentioned to me that he was going to see Mr. Timothy and go to a place called St. Mary's." "Yes, do you remember what he said when he came back?" Lan Scamber thought about it. "I don't really know... nothing directly related, he said he's happy to be home, he's very tired out living in someone else's house... I remember him saying that." "Nothing else? No mention of any of them?" Lanscamber frowned. "Master has a habit of...well, muttering to himself, if you know what I mean...as if talking to me, and more like talking to himself... hardly noticing my presence...because he was talking to me Then understand..." "Knows you and trusts you, yes." "I have a very vague impression of what he said though...as if he didn't know where his money was going...he meant Mr. Timothy, I think. And then said 'a woman could be ninety-nine times Fool, but the hundredth time might be very shrewd', oh yes, he added, 'You can only tell your own generation what you really think. They won't be like the younger generation, Thinks you're thinking.' And then he said... but I don't know what he meant... 'It's not very good to be tempted, but I don't know what else to do.' But I thought, sir, maybe he I was thinking about the gardener... tasting the forbidden fruit." But Mr. Entwhistle did not think that it was the gardener's business that Richard Abernether was thinking.After asking a few more questions Bee let Lanscamber go and recalled the information he had asked.There was nothing, really... nothing, in other words, nothing that he hadn't thought of before, but a few hints.When he said women were fools and could be shrewd, he had in mind his sister Cora, not his sister-in-law Moody.It was she to whom he had poured out his "fantasies," and he had spoken of setting traps.Who is the trap set for? Mr. Entwhistle had carefully considered how much he should tell Helen, and finally he decided to trust her completely. He first thanked her for packing Richard's things and taking care of various household chores.The house for sale has been advertised and one or two potential buyers will be visiting the house soon. "Private buyer?" "I'm afraid not. The YWCA is considering it, and there's a young people's club, and the trustees of the Jefferson Trust are looking for a suitable place for the collection." "It seems sad to think that the house is no longer a home, but of course that's not practical at the moment." "I was just going to ask you if you could stay here until the house is sold. Or would this be an inconvenience to you?" "No . . . it suits me very well actually. I don't want to go to Cyprus until May, and I'd rather stay here than go to London as I originally planned. I love this house, you know, Leo Love it too, and we've been having a great time when we were all here before." "If you stay here, I have another reason to be grateful to you. I have a friend, a Hercule Poirot..." Helen suddenly said sharply: "Herge Poirot? Then you think--" "You know him?" "Yes. Some of my friends . . . but I thought he was dead." "He's alive and well. Not young, of course." "Yes, he cannot be young." she said mechanically.Her face turned pale and her muscles tensed.She said with difficulty: "You think...Kona is right? Richard was... murdered?" Mr. Entwhistle told Helen everything with relief.It was a great relief to put that psychological burden on the sober Helen. When he had finished, she said: "I should have thought that was incredible...but I didn't. Moody and I, the night after the funeral...we both thought the same thing, I'm sure. We each said to ourselves that Cora was really Stupid woman...and feeling uneasy. And then...Korna got killed...I said to myself it was just a coincidence...Of course it could be...Or, oh! If only I could be sure. It's so hard." "Yes, it is difficult. But Poirot is a very original man, and he is really close to genius. He understands our needs very well. . "What if not?" "How can you say that?" said Mr. Entwhistle sharply. "I don't know. I've been feeling uneasy...not just because of what Cora said that day...but other things. I didn't feel right at the time." "What's wrong? Why is it wrong?" "It's just not right. I don't know." "You're saying there's something wrong with someone who was there." "Yeah, yeah... something of the sort. But I don't know who or what... Oh, that sounds ridiculous—" "Not at all. It's interesting . . . very interesting. You're not stupid, Helen. If you notice something, it must have meaning." "Yes, but I can't remember what it is. The more I think about it, the more..." "Don't think about it. It's wrong to think that way. Leave it alone. Sooner or later it will come to your mind. As soon as it happens... let me know right away." "I will."