Chapter 23 Chapter Eleven

Anthony got information from the phone that Lucilla Derek would go out at five o'clock to find an old friend for tea.In addition to the possible delay in going out (forgetting her purse, deciding whether to bring an umbrella, and finally chatting at the door), Anthony calculated the time when she finally went out, and arrived at exactly 5:25 George's house.It was Iris he wanted to see, not her aunt. "Once her aunt saw it, he would have little chance of talking to her. The maid told him that Miss Iris had just returned and was in the study. Anthony smiled and said, "Don't bother you, I'll go there by myself." Then he walked to the study.

Iris turned her head and saw him coming in, startled. "Ah, it's you." He approached her quickly. "What's the matter, dear?" "Nothing." She paused, and then said quickly, "Nothing. I just almost got hit by a car. My own fault, I think I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I swung past without paying attention to the road." , a car came rushing around the corner and almost hit me." He patted her on the back tenderly. "You shouldn't be that careless, Iris. I'm worried about you—oh! It's not your miraculous escape, it's the reason you're loitering on the high-traffic highway. What's the reason, dear? Yes There's a special reason, isn't there?"

She nodded.She looked up at him leisurely, eyes full of fear.Before she could speak, he had seen what she was going to say, and she said low and quickly: "I am afraid." Anthony resumed his calm, smiling normal and sat down on the couch where Iris was sitting. "Hey," he said, "tell me." "I don't think I want to tell you, Anthony." "Okay, don't be like the heroine in a third-rate adventure novel, where in the first chapter there's something impossible to tell, and there's no real reason for it, just to stick to the hero, okay Let the novel add some more space."

She was teased into a pale, faint smile. "I want to tell you, Anthony, but I don't know what you'll think, I don't know if you can believe—" Anthony held up one hand and began counting on his fingers. "One, an illegitimate child. Two, a lover who rips people off. Three—" She interrupted him angrily: "Of course not. Of course not that kind of thing." "Then I'll take it easy," said Anthony. "Well, come on, little fool." Iris's face turned sad. "It's not something funny. It's—it's about that night."

"How?" His voice became serious. Iris said: "You were at the inquest this morning and you heard—" She stopped. "Rarely," said Anthony, "the officer explained the specificity of the potassium chloride and its effect on George, and the inspector—not Kemp, but the one who arrived at the Luxembourg restaurant one by one—reported The police testimony. Then there is the autopsy statement from George's chief of staff. Then the inquest is adjourned for a week by a docile coroner." "I mean the Inspector," said Iris. "He said he found a little paper bag under the table with a bit of potassium cyanide in it."

Anthony showed a very interested expression. "Yes. Apparently the guy who poisoned George's cup dropped the paper bag under the table, easy enough. He or she can't risk being found with the bag on him or her." To his great surprise, Iris began to tremble violently. "Oh, no, Anthony. Oh, no, not as you say." "What did you say, dear? What do you know?" Iris said, "I threw that paper bag under the table." He stared at her in shock. "Listen, Anthony. Do you remember how George drank champagne and it happened?" He nodded. "It was horrible — like a nightmare. Just when it seemed like everything was going to be okay. I mean, I was so relieved after the sideshow and the lights came back on. Because, you know, it was at that That's when we found Rosemary dead. For some reason, I thought I'd see that scene again. . . . I felt her there, dead, on the table..."

"Dear……" "Oh, I know. It's just neurotic. But anyway, we're all right there, nothing terrible happened, and all of a sudden, I feel like it's finally in the past and we can all- I don't know How should I explain it—from the beginning. So I danced with George, and I really felt like I could finally have a good time, and then we went back to the table. Then George suddenly talked about Rosemary, and asked us to have a drink in her honor, Then he died, and all the nightmares came back." "I think I was just paralyzed, standing there, shaking. You come to see him, and I step back, and the waiter comes running, and someone goes to the doctor. And I just stand there like I'm frozen. There. Then suddenly a mouthful of thick phlegm poured into my throat, tears started to flow down, and I quickly opened my purse to get a handkerchief. I just fumbled with my hands, couldn’t see very well, and took out my handkerchief. But Found something in my handkerchief - a folded white paper bag like the ones in drugstores for powders. Only, you know, Anthony, it wasn't in my purse when I started from home I don't have anything like that! I put Lacey in my purse myself—a powder compact, a lip balm, handkerchiefs, combs, and a few coins. Somebody put that paper bag in my purse, must have That's right. I remembered that they found the same paper bag in Rosemary's purse, which also contained potassium cyanide powder. I was terrified, Anthony, I was terrified. My fingers suddenly went numb, and the paper bag It slipped out of the handkerchief and under the table. I didn't bother with it, and didn't say anything. I was too scared. Someone made it look like I poisoned it, but I didn't."

Anthony let out a long whistle. "Has anyone seen it?" he said. Iris hesitated. "I don't know," she said slowly, "I'm sure Ruth noticed. But she looked so confused at the time that I don't know if she really noticed—or just looked at me vaguely." .” Anthony whistled again. "This," he said, "is a real mess." Iris said: "It's getting worse. I'm scared they'll find out." "Why aren't your fingerprints on it? I'm wondering. The first thing they must do is to remove the fingerprints."

"I think it's because I'm holding it through a handkerchief." Anthony nodded. "Yes, you are lucky." "But who could put it in my purse? I carried it all night." "That's not as impossible as you think. When you go to the dance, leave your purse on the table. Someone may have messed with it at that time. And there are those women. You stand up and act like a woman in a dressing room Can you show me what you're doing? I can't know about this kind of thing. Do you get together and chat, or do you separately apply makeup in the mirror?"

Iris thought about it. "We all go to the same dressing table—the one with this long, big mirror. And then we put down our purses and look in the mirror, you know." "I don't actually know. Go ahead." "Ruth put some powder on her nose, and Chantilly brushed her hair and put a barrette on. I took off the fox fur shawl and saw that my hands were a little dirty—a little dust, and went to the sink." "Leave your purse on the dressing table?" "Yes, while I was washing my hands, Ruth was still putting makeup on my face, and Sandra left, went to take off the coat and hung it up, and then went back to the dressing table, and then Ruth came to wash her hands, and I went back to the makeup Taiwan, tidy up your hair a little bit."

"Then maybe one of the two of them smuggled it into your purse?" "Yes, but I can't believe Ruth or Sandra would do such a thing." "You're too condescending. Cinderella is the kind of woman who, in the Middle Ages, would have burned her enemies alive at the stake. And Ruth is the most likely poisoner." "If it was Ruth, why didn't she say she saw me throw it?" "You've got me wrong. If Ruth deliberately arranged for you to be framed, then she will never let you out. So it doesn't look like Ruth. And the waiter is the most unlikely. Waiter, waiter! By the way, if the waiter was an outsider, a special waiter, brought in especially for that evening... But the only waiters at our table were Jessup and Pierrey, and they didn't look like... " Iris sighed. "I'm glad I told you. No one else would know? Just me and you?" Anthony stared at her a little embarrassed. "There's no way, Iris. In fact, you're going to take a taxi with me to Kemp's right now. We can't keep it a secret." "Oh, no, Anthony. They'll think I killed George." "If you don't say it, of course they think so. If they find out later! Then your explanation will be untenable. If you take the initiative to explain now, there is still a possibility of being accepted." "Please, Anthony." "Listen, Iris, you're in a dangerous situation. But no matter what, things will come out. Paper can't contain fire." "Oh, Anthony, must you be so noble?" "You," Anthony said, "hit me right! But we're going to Kemp anyway! Go now!" Reluctantly, she followed him into the living room, where he grabbed the coat she had left on the chair and asked her to put it on. Her eyes were full of defiance and fear, but Anthony had no intention of giving in.He said: "Let's go to the square and call a taxi." As they approached the hall door, the doorbell rang loudly. Iris yelled. "I forgot. It was Ruth. She's coming from get off work to discuss funeral arrangements. It's the day after tomorrow. I think we can do it better while Aunt Lucilla isn't around. She's always complicating things." Anthony stepped forward.open the door. Ruth looked tired and a little disheveled.She was carrying a large suitcase. "I'm sorry I'm late, the underground train is crowded tonight, so I have to change to a bus. I waited for three shifts before I got on, and another taxi couldn't be seen." Anthony thought that Ruth, who was super efficient, had very few opportunities to apologize to others.It can be seen that George's death has destroyed her superhuman efficiency. Iris said: "I can't go with you now, Anthony. Ruth and I have something important to discuss." Anthony said firmly: "I'm afraid I have to say that my business is more important. . . I'm sorry, Miss Lysin, but it is." Ruth said quickly: "It's okay, Mr. Browne. I can wait for Mrs. Derek to come back and discuss the arrangements with her." She smiled slightly. "I can handle her, you know." "I'm sure you can handle anyone, Team Lessing," Anthony said admiringly. "Iris, do you have anything special to say?" "No. I'm proposing to discuss it between the two of us only because Aunt Lucilla is often indecisive, changing her mind and disturbing you. You have so many things to do. But I really don't care what happens." Funerals! Aunt Lucilla loved funerals, but I hated the formalities. People died to be buried, but I hated the fussy ceremonies. It didn't matter to the dead, they were out of their misery. If a person dies, he won’t come back to watch the fun!” "Come on," said Anthony, dragging her out the door. A taxi happened to be driving slowly across the square, Anthony stopped it, and opened the door to let Iris go in first. "Tell me, big beauty," he said, after telling the driver to drive to Scotland Yard, "who the hell made you feel the need to say that when you said in the lobby that you're dead and you don't come back? George's ghost, or Rosemary's?" "No! Neither! I tell you, I just hate funerals, that's all." Anthony sighed. "I must be a psychic!"