Chapter 23 Chapter 22 The Woman on the Stairs

The next morning, we received a handwritten note.The handwriting is very light, and the font is crooked and slanted upwards. Dear M. Poirot: I heard from Ellen that you came to the Little Green House yesterday.I would be very grateful if you could come and meet me sometime today. Sincerely, Wilhelmina Lawson "Here she comes," I said. "yes." "I don't know why she came here?" Poirot smiled and said: "I don't think there's anything ominous about it. The house is now hers after all." "That's the truth. But you know, Poirot, that's the worst part of our drama. Every little thing that anyone does, there can be evil motives."

"I do appreciate your motto 'suspect everyone'." "Are you still suspicious of everyone?" "No—for me, it boils down to this: I only suspect one particular person." "which one?" "Since there is only suspicion at present, and there is no solid evidence, I think I should leave it to you to draw conclusions, Hastings. Don't ignore psychology-that is important. The nature of murder-it can suggest murder. Committed to a certain character - this is a basic clue to solve the case." "If I don't know who the murderer is, I can't consider the murderer's character!"

"No, no, you didn't pay attention to what I've just said. If you've considered the character of the man--the character a murderer must have--then you'll know who the murderer is!" "Do you really know who the murderer is, Poirot?" I asked curiously. "I can't yet say I know, because I have no proof. That's why I can't say much at the moment. But I'll tell you for sure—my friend, it's clear in my heart who the murderer is." "Ah," I said, laughing, "be careful not to let the murderer kill you again! It would be a tragedy!"

Poirot was a little taken aback.He didn't take what I said as a joke.Instead, he muttered: "You're right. I must be careful—very careful." "You should wear a piece of armor," I joked, "and hire a tester to keep you from being poisoned! In fact you should hire a gang of gunners as bodyguards!" "Merci (French: thank you.) Hastings, I will rely on my resourcefulness." Then he wrote Miss Lawson a note saying he would be at the Little Green House at eleven o'clock. After we had breakfast, we strolled to the square.It was about a quarter past ten, a hot and weary morning.

I was looking in the window of an antique shop, admiring a pair of very nice chairs, when someone poked me in the ribs, which hurt, and I heard a squeal of delight: "Hi! " I turned angrily and found myself face to face with Miss Peabody.She was holding a very large pointed umbrella (poking my tool). It was clear that she had no sympathy for the pain I had caused.She said to me triumphantly: "Ha! I think it's you. I don't usually mistake people." I replied dryly, "Er—morning—good. What's the matter?" "Tell me, how is your friend's book--the one on the life of General Arundel?"

"He hasn't actually started writing yet," I said. Miss Peabody laughed heartily, in a low voice but clearly contented.She swayed like a jellyfish.After recovering, she said: "You say he didn't start writing. I don't think he'll start writing at all." I smiled and said, "So, have you seen through this little lie we made up?" "What do you take me for?—a fool?" asked Miss Peabody. "I'll soon see what your crafty friend is up to! Trying to trick me! Well, I don't care. I Like to talk. Now I'm having a hard time finding an audience. I had a great afternoon."

She squinted at me with alert eyes, and said: "What's going on here? What's going on here?" I was hesitating, not knowing how to answer, when Poirot happened to come over.He bowed cordially to Miss Peabody. "Good morning, miss. It is a pleasure to meet you." "Good morning," said Miss Peabody. "What have you been pretending to be doing this morning? Is your name Poirot or is it Poirot—er?" "You are very clever in seeing through my disguise so quickly," said Poirot, laughing. "There's really no pretense to see through either! We don't have many like you around here, do we? I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, it's hard to say."

"I like to be different, miss." "I will say that you have had your wish," said Miss Peabody coldly. "Since I told you all that day, Mr. Poirot, it is now my turn to ask you some questions. This is What's going on? What's going on?" "You're not asking a question to which you already know the answer?" "I don't know," she cast a sharp look at him. "Is that will suspicious? Is there any other problem? Is there going to be an exhumation? Is that so?" Poirot made no answer. Miss Peabody nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if answered.

"I used to wonder," she said incoherently, "what the hell was going on... You know when I read the papers—I wondered if there was a grave about to be dug in Market Basing... I Didn't expect it to be Emily Arundell..." She glanced at him suddenly again with keen eyes, and said: "She doesn't like you doing it. I think you've considered it—have you?" "Yes, I have considered it." "I think you'll think about it—you're not a fool! And I think you'd like to do private things, too." Poirot bowed and said: "Thank you, miss."

"That's what most people would say—hey! Look at your beard. Why do you have that beard? Do you like it?" I turned around, laughing hard. "It's a pity that beards are no longer worshiped in England," said Poirot.At the same time he stroked his beard furtively with his hand. "Oh, I see! How funny," said Miss Peabody, "I once knew a woman who had a goiter and she was so proud of it! People wouldn't believe it, but it was True! Well, I say, it's good luck if you're happy with what God has given you. But it's often the other way around."

She shook her head and sighed. "I never thought there would be murder in this idyllic place." She cast another quick, keen look at Poirot. "Who murdered it?" "Do you want me to tell you loudly in the street?" "That may mean you don't know. Maybe you do? Well, well—it's a hateful thing—hateful, I wonder if Woman Valli poisoned her husband. Maybe it has something to do with it." "You believe in heredity?" Miss Peabody said suddenly: "I wish it was Tanios. He's an outsider! But wish doesn't equal reality, it's just unlucky. Well, I'm leaving. I can see you're not going to tell me anything... By the way, who are you commissioned by?" Poirot replied gravely: "It was entrusted by the deceased, miss." I am sorry to tell the readers that when Miss Peabody heard what Poirot said, she suddenly gave a shrill laugh.But she quickly suppressed her laughter and said: "I'm sorry. It sounds like Isabel Tripp said—that's it! What a loathsome woman she is! Julia is worse. They're so childish they're a nuisance. There are very few older ones nowadays. The woman is dressed like that, well, goodbye. Have you seen Dr. Granger?" "Miss, I'm going to blame you, you betrayed my secret." Miss Peabody, reveling in her extraordinarily rich giggle, said: "Simple minded man! He believed all the lies you told him. When I told him he was going crazy with rage. When he left he was groaning with rage! He's looking for you." "He found me last night." "Oh, I wish I had been there." "I hope so, madam," echoed Poirot. Miss Peabody laughed and staggered away.But she immediately turned to me and said: "Goodbye, young man. You don't buy those chairs. They're fake." She giggled and walked away. "She's a very clever old lady," said Poirot. "Even though she doesn't love your beard?" "A taste is one thing," said Poirot drily, "a mind is another." We walked into the store and walked around the store with great interest for twenty minutes.When we came out, it cost nothing, and then we went to the little green house. Ellen, redder than usual, invited us in and led us into the living room.As soon as I entered the living room, I heard the sound of someone coming downstairs, and Miss Lawson came in.She seemed a little out of breath, and a little flustered.Her hair was tied up with a silk handkerchief. "Excuse me for coming down like this, M. Poirot. I was looking into some locked cupboards—so many things—I think old people like to collect things—and my dear Miss Arundell is no exception. —Look, I've got so much dirt in my hair—you know, it's amazing how much people collect—you'll believe me, she's got two dozen book-boxes—whole Two dozen!" "You mean Miss Arundell bought two kits?" "Yes, she put those needle-boxes aside, and then forgot—of course, the needles are all rusted now—what a pity. She used to give them as Christmas presents to the servants." "She's forgetful—isn't she?" "Oh, she's very forgetful. She's so forgetful where you put things. You know, like a dog with a bone in its mouth, we used to say that about her. And I used to say to her, 'Don't be like little Like a dog, running around with a bone in its mouth, always forgetting where to put the bone.'" She laughed as she spoke, then took out a small handkerchief from her pocket, covered her nose and suddenly began to sob. "Oh my God," she said tearfully again, "don't watch me smile, it hurts so much." "You are too nervous," said Poirot, "too sentimental." "My mother used to say that to me too, M. Poirot. She always said to me: 'You're too sentimental, too interested in things, Minnie.' Nervousness is a great fault, M. Poirot." , especially when one has to earn one's own living." "Oh, yes, that's true, but that's a thing of the past. Now you're the mistress. You can have as much fun as you want--travel--with no worries or worries at all." "I think you're right," said Miss Lawson, looking suspicious at the same time. "I'm sure it's true. Now that I'm talking about Miss Arundell's forgetfulness, I understand how it took me so long to hear from her." He explained to Miss Lawson the circumstances of his discovery of the letter.Miss Lawson's cheeks flushed.She said aloud: "Ellen should have told me! She sent you the letter without telling me, it was rude! She should have consulted with me first, it was rude, I just said it! I have nothing to say about it." What I heard. It's too outrageous!" "Oh, my dear lady, I believe that Ellen did it in all sincerity." "Well, I think it's a little strange of her to do that! It's very strange! Servants do strange things. Ellen should remember that I'm the mistress of the house now!" She straightened herself up and looked great. "Ellen was faithful to her mistress, wasn't she?" asked Poirot. "Yes, it is, but the situation is no different. She should have told me!" "The important thing is—I have received the letter," said Poirot. "Oh, I agree with you that it's no use making a fuss after something happens, but I still think Ellen should have told me instead of posting the letter without first asking." She stopped talking, red spots appeared on her cheeks. Poirot sank for a moment, then asked: "You want to see me today? How can I help you?" Miss Lawson's terrified air soon faded away, and she resumed her incoherent and incoherent discourse: "This—you see, I don't know if it's true... To tell you the truth, M. Poirot. Ellen told me after I came here yesterday that you had been here, I didn't know—oh, because You didn't tell me about coming—oh, that's kind of a strange thing—I don't understand...” "You don't understand what we are doing here?" Poirot finished for her. "Oh, I—I don't understand, that's all." She watched him, her face flushed and curious. "I should confess to you," said Poirot, "that I am afraid I have misunderstood you. You thought Miss Arundell's letter to me was about the small sum of money that had been stolen—you thought it was entirely Possibly—Charles Arundell stole it." Miss Lawson nodded. "You see, the content of the letter is not so serious... In fact, it is the first time I have heard about the theft from you... Miss Arundell's letter to me is about the incident that happened to her. ACCIDENT." "The accident she had?" "Yes, I know she fell down the stairs." "Oh, yes--yes..." Miss Lawson seemed lost.She stared blankly at Poirot.After a while she went on: "I'm sorry--I'm so stupid--but why is she writing to you? I understand that it's--I think it's what you said--that you're a detective. At the same time, you're still —Doctor? Maybe you are a person who believes that God can heal the sick?” "No, I'm not a doctor—and I don't ask God to heal. But like a doctor, I'm sometimes concerned with so-called accidental death." "Concerned about accidental death?" "I mean the so-called accidental death. Miss Arundell didn't die that time—but she could have died as a result of the accident!" "Oh my God, yes, the doctor said that too, but I don't get it..." Miss Lawson still seemed perplexed. "You think that accident was caused by Little Bob's ball, don't you?" "Yes, yes, that's why. Bob's ball." "No, it wasn't Bob's ball." "But, excuse me, M. Poirot, I saw Bob's ball with my own eyes—I saw it when we ran downstairs." "You saw the ball--yes, that may be true. But that was not the cause of the accident. Miss Lawson, the cause of the accident was a black wire drawn a foot above the floor above the stairs!" "But—but dogs can't..." "Of course a dog won't," said Poirot at once. "A dog wouldn't do that—it wouldn't be that clever—and it wouldn't be that sinister, so to speak. . . . line..." Miss Lawson grew deathly pale.She covered her face with a trembling hand and said: "Oh, M. Poirot—I don't believe it—you mean—but it's dreadful—really dreadful. Do you mean it was done on purpose?" "Yes, someone did it on purpose." "But that's horrible. It's almost like—like murder." "If it succeeds, it will kill! In other words—it will be murder!" Miss Lawson gave a scream. Poirot went on in the same stern tone: "Someone put a nail into the corner board so that the thread could be tied. The nail was painted and you couldn't tell. Tell me, do you remember ever smelling paint from somewhere ?” Miss Lawson called again. "Oh, how queer! Let me think about it! Why, of course! But I never thought—never dreamed—then, how could I have thought? Yet I did wonder then. " Poirot leaned forward and said: "So—you can help us, miss. You can help us again. C'estepatant (French: This is great.)!" "I remember, that's what happened! Oh, it fits all." "I beg you, tell me, you've smelled lacquer - haven't you?" "Yes, of course I've smelled it, but I don't know what it is. I was like - God - is it paint - no, it's more like floor wax, and then I thought I must be in Fantasy." "What time was that?" "Let me see—what time was that?" "Is it during the Easter weekend when the house is full?" "Yes, that's when—I'm remembering the exact day... oh, it wasn't Sunday, and it wasn't Tuesday—it was the day Dr. Donaldson came for dinner. Wednesday, they all left. Not Wednesday, of course. Well, it was Monday - it was a bank holiday. I lay awake that night in bed - you know, I was worried. I always think of a bank holiday as an annoying day! Only cold There's still enough beef, and I'm afraid Miss Arundell will be offended by it. You know, I ordered bone-in meat on Saturday, and of course I should order seven pounds, but I think five would be enough. But if there's not enough, Miss Arundell is always angry—she's so hospitable..." Miss Lawson paused, took a deep breath, and went on: "So I didn't fall asleep, and I wondered if she'd say anything the next day because there wasn't enough to eat. I was thinking about this and that. It took me a long time to fall asleep— But just as I fell asleep, something seemed to wake me up—a knocking sound, or a light tapping sound—and I sat up in bed, and I smelled Of course, I was always worried about the fire—sometimes, I think I smelled the smell of fire two or three times that night—(When people are possessed by evil spirits, all kinds of strange things happen.) The smell always lingers, I I sniffed it hard, and found that it was not the smell of smoke from a fire, nor was it a smell similar to a fire. I said to myself: This smells like paint or floor wax. However, people should not smell it in the middle of the night. It smells like this. But, it was so strong, I sat up and smelled and smelled, and then I saw her in the mirror..." "Saw her? Who did you see?" "You know, I find it most convenient to look in a mirror. I always leave my door a little open, so that if Miss Arundell wants to call me, I can hear; I could see her. There was a light in the corridor that was on all night. That allowed me to see her crouching on the stairs—I mean Teresa. She was crouching on about the third step of the stairs on, looking down at something, I thought, 'How strange, is she sick?' Later, she got up and walked away, so I think she may have slipped or she bent over to pick up something .But, afterward, I never gave a second thought to whether there were other reasons.” "The knocking sound that woke you up was probably the sound of a hammer hitting a nail," said Poirot thoughtfully. "Yes, I think it might be. But, oh, M. Poirot, how dreadful--really, how dreadful. I always thought Theresa might be a little mad for doing such a thing." "Are you sure it's Theresa?" "Oh my God, that's her." "For example, could it be Mrs. Tanios or a maid?" "Oh, it can't be anyone else, it's Teresa." Miss Lawson shook her head, and said to herself, "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she repeated several times. Poirot gazed at her with a look which I could hardly comprehend. He said suddenly: "Permit me to perform an experiment. Let us go upstairs and try to re-enact the situation." "Are you going to act out the situation? Oh, seriously - I don't know - I mean I don't understand..." "I'll show you," said Poirot, interrupting her disbelief with an authoritative gesture. Miss Lawson was a little flustered, and she went upstairs first. "I'd like the house to be tidier—but because there's so much to do—for all sorts of reasons..." she said incoherently. The rooms do get cluttered with all sorts of things.Evidently this was the result of Miss Lawson's tipping over the contents of the cupboard.Miss Lawson, as usual, incoherently articulated her own position, which Poirot himself verified by causing part of the staircase to be reflected in the mirror on her bedroom wall. "Now, madam," he suggested, "go outside and act out what you see." Miss Lawson was still muttering, "Oh, dear..." as she hurried to fulfill her role.Poirot acts as the observer. When the show was over, he came out, and on the landing, he asked which light was on for the night. Poirot reached out and took out the bulb and examined it. "I think it's a forty-watt bulb, and it's not too bright." "It's not too bright, just to keep the corridor from getting too dark." Poirot went back to the top of the stairs. "Excuse me, madam, as the light is so dim that it is unlikely that you will be able to see the shadow cast. Are you sure, then, that it is Miss Theresa Arundell and not another woman in a dressing gown?" ?” Miss Lawson was angry. "It was none other than M. Poirot! I'm absolutely sure of that! I know Theresa perfectly! Oh, no problem, it's her. She's wearing a black dressing gown with that big shiny brooch with the initials on it, the initials The letters represent her name—I see it clearly." "So you must be her. Did you see the initials?" "Yes, I see, I know she has that brooch. Teresa wears it a lot. Oh, yes, I can swear it's Teresa—I can swear it if I want!" Her last two words were firm and decisive, which was very different from her usual appearance. Poirot looked at her, and once again there was something strange about his gaze.A very indifferent look, as if assessing the eyes - but also the final conclusion. "You can swear on it, can't you?" he said. "If-if-necessary. But I suppose it-is it necessary?" Poirot glanced at her again, appraised her once more, and said: "It depends on the results of the exhumation and opening of the coffin," he said. "Would you like to dig—exhume and open the coffin?" Poirot put out his hand and took her.Miss Lawson was so excited that she nearly fell down the stairs. "Maybe it's a question of digging the grave," he said. "Oh, but sure--that would be very unpleasant! I mean, there's bound to be a strong disapproval of the idea in the family--a strong disapproval." "Maybe against." "I'm sure they won't agree." "Oh, but suppose it's an order from the Home Office." "But, M. Poirot—why do that? I mean not like—not like—" "It doesn't look like what?" "It's not like there's anything—wrong." "Do you think nothing is wrong?" "Yes, of course nothing can go wrong. Hey, no! I mean doctors, nurses all..." "Don't be upset," Poirot reassured her calmly. "Oh, but I can't help being upset! Poor dear Miss Arundell! It seems Theresa was not here when she died." "No, she left on Monday, before her aunt fell ill, didn't she?" "She left early in the morning. So, you see, she has nothing to do with it!" "Let's hope it doesn't matter," said Poirot. "Oh, dear," said Miss Lawson, clasping her hands together. "I never knew it was such a horrible thing! I really don't know if I'm on the ground or on the sky." Poirot looked at his watch. "We must go. We're going back to London. You're going to be here some time, miss?" "No—no...I have no plans to stay here. Actually, I'm going back today...I'm only here for one night—to make arrangements." "I see. Well—good-bye, miss, and I beg your pardon if I disturb you." "Oh, M. Poirot. Are you disturbing me? I do! Oh, my God. The world is full of evil! What a terrible evil world!" Poirot took her hand firmly and eased her grief. "Exactly. Are you going to swear that you saw Theresa Arundell kneeling on the stairs on the night of the Easter bank holiday?" "Yes, I can swear it." "Can you swear that you ever saw a circle of light surround Miss Arundell's head during your evening gathering?" Miss Lawson gaped. "Oh, M. Poirot, no—don't make such jokes." "I'm not kidding. I'm serious." Miss Lawson said with dignity: "It's not exactly a halo. It's more like the beginning of a mysterious phenomenon. Shows a ribbon of luminous matter. I think it's the beginning of the apparition." "It was very interesting. Au revoir (French: Goodbye.), madam, please keep it a secret." "Oh, of course--of course. I never dreamed of giving away." The last we saw of Miss Lawson was standing on the front steps staring at us with a weary look on her face.

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Notes: