Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen Theresa Arundell

The next morning we went to Theresa at the address Dr. Donaldson had given me. At first, I suggested to Poirot that it would be better to visit Mr. Purvis, the lawyer, but Poirot strongly rejected my idea. "No, my friend, absolutely not. What shall we say when we go to him--what reason shall we present to him in order to know?" "Your excuses are always ready, Poirot! Any lie that has been used in the past will do, won't it?" "On the contrary, my friend, 'any lie that has been used in the past' as you say will not work. Telling those lies to a lawyer will not work. We will let him-how do you say it-out and be vicious blame."

"Oh well," I said, "then let's not take that risk!" So, as I said, we went early in the morning to where Theresa Arundell lived. Miss Theresa's house was in Chelsea, overlooking the creek.The interior is modern and quite luxurious, with gleaming chrome furniture and thick graphic carpets. We waited for a few minutes before a girl came into the room and asked us curiously. Theresa Arundell looked about eighteen or nineteen years old.Tall and slender, he looked like an exaggerated sketch painted in black and white at first glance.Her hair was jet-black and shiny--a thick layer of powder had left her face deathly pale.She plucked her eyebrows, and modified them in a whimsical way, so that her appearance looked strange and funny.Only the lips are the only place of color, and against the white face, they are purple and dazzling.She also gave the impression--I don't know how, because she was so cold and repulsive--that she had a lot more energy than most.There is a kind of unreleased energy in her body, like raising a whip, once it falls, it will definitely make this energy burst out.

She looked from me to Poirot with icy air and questioning eyes. Poirot is tired of the trick (I hope so).This time, he handed over his business card.She held the card between her fingers, turning it around. "I suppose," she said, "that you are M. Poirot?" Poirot bowed politely to her. "At your command, miss. Will you allow me to take a few minutes of your precious time?" In a slight imitation of Poirot, she replied: "Very pleased, M. Poirot, please sit down." Poirot sat down cautiously in a low, square easy-chair.I moved a straight chrome chair and sat down.Teresa, sitting casually on a low stool in front of the fireplace, offered us both cigarettes, which we declined, and she lit one herself.

"Perhaps you already know my name, miss?" She nodded and said: "A little man from Scotland Yard, isn't he?" I don't think Poirot likes this description of him by Theresa.He said in an emphatic tone: "I care about crime, miss." "It's creepy," said Theresa Arundell in a weary tone, "and I remember I've lost an autographed album." "My present concern," continued Poirot, "is that I had a letter from your aunt yesterday." Her eyes—slender almond eyes—dilated a little, and a puff of smoke came out of her mouth.

"A letter from my aunt, M. Poirot?" "Miss, that's what I said." She muttered: "I'm sorry to disappoint you. But really, you know there's no such person as you're talking about! All my aunts are dead. The last one died two months ago." "Miss Emily Arundell?" "Yes, Miss Emily Arundell. M. Poirot, you don't get letters from dead bodies, do you?" "I sometimes get letters from dead bodies, miss." "How terrible it is!" A new timbre had taken over in her voice clock—a timbre of sudden alertness and heeding.

"Monsieur Poirot, what did my aunt say in her letter?" "Well, miss, I can't tell you just yet. You see, it's a little"—he coughed—"delicate thing." The room was silent.Theresa Arundell smokes.After a while she said: "It all sounds extremely secretive and interesting. But what do I have to do with it, specifically?" "I hope, miss, you will agree to answer a few questions for me." "Question? Question about what?" "Family matters." Again I saw her eyes widen. "That sounds exaggerated! Can you give me an example?"

"Of course. Can you tell me where your brother Charles lives now?" Her eyes narrowed again.Her latent energy was gone.It seems to be indented into shells one by one. "I'm afraid I can't tell you. We don't correspond much with each other. I think he has left England." "I see." Poirot was silent for a while without speaking. "Is that all you need to know?" "Oh, I have some other questions. One—are you satisfied with the way your aunt has divided her estate? And another—how long have you been engaged to Dr. Donaldson?" "You ask this for a while, and then that for a while, do you think so?"

"Eh bien (This is French. Means: Is that bad?)?" "Eh bien (this is French. Meaning: er, well.)—Since we are so strangers!—My answer to both questions is: It's none of your business! Hercule Poirot Monsieur. Cane vousregarde pas (This is French. It means: Leave this thing alone.).” Poirot watched her carefully for a moment, then stood up without showing any sign of disappointment. "That's right! Oh, well, perhaps that's not surprising. Miss, allow me to congratulate you on your French pronunciation. Good morning to you too. Come, Hastings." When we got to the door, the girl spoke again.I remembered again the metaphor of her being compared to a whip hanging high.She didn't leave her original position, but the two words she uttered were like lightly whipping a whip.

"Come back!" she said. Poirot came back slowly.He sat down again, staring at her inquiringly. "Let's stop acting," she said. "You may be of use to me, Monsieur Hercule Poirot." "I am honored to hear you say that, miss—what can I do?" Between two puffs of cigarette smoke, she said very calmly: "Tell me how to invalidate a will." "You need a lawyer..." "Yes, a lawyer, perhaps—if only I knew such a useful one. And the ones I know are decent, respectable men! They tell me my aunt's will is legal. , any attempt to refute is futile and a waste of money!"

"You don't believe what they say?" "I believe that there is always a solution to everything - as long as you ignore the unethical and are prepared to spend money. I am prepared to spend money." "You take it for granted that if you give me money, I'm ready to be immoral?" "I find that most people do! I don't see why you should be an exception. Of course, people always insist on keeping their chastity, and above all their integrity, and don't take bribes lightly." "You're quite right, that's part of my play, isn't it? But if I'm ready--immoral--what do you think I can do?"

"I don't know. But the street knows you're a smart man. You can come up with some tricks." "What kind of scheme?" Theresa Arundell shrugged. "That's your business. You can steal the original will and replace it with a forged one... or you can kidnap Lawson and threaten her into admitting that she threatened Miss Emily to make her Wrote a new will. And then produced a copy of the will that Lloyd Millie wrote on her sickbed." "Your imagination astounds me, miss." "Well, how do you answer now? I am quite straightforward. If you refuse solemnly, here is the door and you can go." "It's not a serious refusal now--however..." said Poirot. Theresa Arundell laughed.she looks at me. "Your friend," she said, "looks dumbfounded. Shall we let him go out and take a walk in the street?" Poirot said to me somewhat angrily: "I beg you, take control of your good, upright nature, Hastings." He said to Theresa again: "I beg you to forgive my friend, miss. Honest and faithful. He was infinitely loyal to me. However, in any case, I must emphasize that"—he stared at her hard—"whatever we do, we must strictly limit ourselves to to the extent permitted by law." She raised her eyebrows slightly. "The law, however," said Poirot thoughtfully, "has a wide range." "I see," she smiled. "Well, we all get that. Would you like to discuss how much you'll be given—if we succeed in the end and get paid?" "That's a deal too. Give me some nice trinkets—that's what I want, okay?" "It's a deal," Theresa said. Poirot leaned forward and said: "Listen, madam, usually—ninety-nine out of a hundred cases I do legally. The hundredth—well, the hundredth is different. In short, the first A hundred cases are usually very lucrative...but it has to be done in secret, you know—very secret. My reputation must not be tarnished. I have to be careful." Theresa Arundell nodded. "So, I should know all the facts in the case! I should know the truth! You know very well: once a person knows the truth, it is easier to know what to tell a lie!" "It seems very reasonable." "Very well, then. Now tell me, when was your aunt's will written?" "April twenty-first." "When was the last will written?" "Aunt Emily wrote a will five years ago." "Its terms are..." "One part of the relics went to Ellen, and another part to the cook who was here before, and all her property was divided among the children of her brother Thomas and her sister Arabella." "Is this money entrusted to someone else?" "No, it was left to us unconditionally." "Now to be more careful. Did you know the terms of this will before?" "Oh, yes. Charles and I both know--Bella knows it too. Aunt Emily doesn't hide it. In fact, if any of us borrow money from her, she often says, 'When I die, you'll will have all my money. You should agree to my arrangements.'" "Would your aunt refuse to lend you money if you were in urgent need of money due to illness or any other misfortune?" "No, I don't think she will," Theresa said slowly. "But she thinks you all have enough money to live on now." "She thinks so—yes." There was poignancy in her voice. "But you—don't you have enough money?" It took Teresa a moment to answer.she says: "My father left us, brother and sister, £30,000 each. Interest on insurance investments was about £1,200 a year. Income tax took part of it, and we could live fairly well on such a decent income. But I . . . ’ Her voice changed, her slender body straightened, her head thrown back—I felt the amazing vitality in her come out—“But I’m not satisfied, I need better life! I want all the best things in the world! The best food, the prettiest clothes--everything first-class--the most beautiful--not the usual fashions! I To live and to play—to the Mediterranean, to lie in the warm waters of summer—I want to gamble, to sit round a table and count the thrilling wads of money with the gamblers—I want A banquet—crazy, absurd, extravagant banquet—I want everything that is fashionable in this rotten world—I don't want it all someday—I want it now!" Her voice is amazingly excited, passionate, she is so excited, completely in narcissism. Poirot watched her intently. "I suppose you've got it by now?" "Yes, Hercule - I got it!" "How much £30,000 is left?" Suddenly she laughed and said: "There's two hundred and twenty-one pounds fourteen shillings and sevenpence left. That's the exact balance. So, you see, little man, you'll be paid if it works, and if it doesn't—no money." "In that case," said Poirot, in a tone of naturalness, "it can certainly be done." "You're a great little man, Hercule. I'm glad we're working together." Poirot went on like a man of deals: "There are a few things I really need to know. Are you drugged?" "No, I've never been convinced." "drink wine?" "Drinks a lot - but not because I like it. My friends drink and I drink with them, but I can quit tomorrow." "It's very satisfying." She laughed and said: "I don't speak the truth when I'm drunk, Hercule." Poirot continued: "What kind of love affair?" "A lot in the past." "What now?" "Only Rex." "That's Dr. Donaldson?" "yes." "He seemed somewhat out of tune with the kind of life you speak of." "Oh, do you ask why? Then I ask you why Juliet fell in love with Romeo?" "Well, respecting Shakespeare, one of the reasons is because Romeo happened to be the first man Juliet met, and it was love at first sight." Theresa said slowly, "Rex isn't the first man I've met—I've met a lot of men." She added in a low voice, "But I think—I feel—that he He'll be the last man I'll ever see." "He's a poor man, miss." She nodded. "Does he need money too?" "Needs like mad. Oh, but he doesn't need money for the reasons I said. He doesn't want luxury--or beauty--or excitement--or anything like that. He'll wear a dress, Until the wear out--he'd be quite happy to eat frozen chops for every lunch and bathe in a tin tub morning and night. If he had money, he'd spend it all on test tubes and other equipment for the lab. He Ambitious. Professional is everything to him. Professional is more important to him — than I am to him.” "Does he know that you will have money after Miss Arundell's death?" "I told him. Oh! After our engagement, if that's what you want to find out, he didn't want to marry me for my money." "Are you still engaged?" "Of course." Poirot made no answer.His silence seemed to disturb her. "Of course we're still engaged," she repeated, raising her voice.Then added, "You—did you see him?" "I saw him yesterday—at Market Basing?" "Then what did you say to him?" "I said nothing. We instructed him to ask your brother's address." "Charles?" Her voice rose again. "What do you want to do with Charles?" "Charles? Who wants Charles?" It's a new voice—a pleasant male voice. A young man with a tanned face walked into the room with a smile. "Who's talking about me?" he asked. "I heard my name said in the living room, but I didn't overhear. They're very strict about eavesdropping in the juvenile reformatory. Hey, Terry Sarah, dear, what's the matter? Tell me quickly."