Sad Cypress

“A new life… That is what Elinor Carlisle is beginning now—and it is you who have given her that life.”

“No.”

“Yes. It was your determination, your arrogant insistence that compelled me to do as you asked. Admit now, it is to you she turns in gratitude, is it not?”

Peter Lord said slowly:

“Yes, she’s very grateful—now… She asked me to go and see her—often.”

“Yes, she needs you.”

Peter Lord said violently:

“Not as she needs—him!”

Hercule Poirot shook his head.

“She never needed Roderick Welman. She loved him, yes, unhappily—even desperately.”

ad him to say that he saw your car in the road; and then you give a start and pretend that it was not your car. And you look hard at me to make sure that I realize that someone, a stranger, must have been there that morning.”

“I was a damned fool,” said Peter Lord.

“What were you doing at Hunterbury that morning?”

Peter Lord blushed.

“It was just sheer idiocy… I—I’d heard she was down. I went up to the house on the chance of seeing her. I didn’t mean to speak to her. I—I just wanted to—well—see her. From the path in the shrubbery I saw her in the pantry cutting bread and butter—”

“Charlotte and the poet Werther. Continue, my friend.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to tell. I just slipped into the bushes and stayed there watching her till she went away.”

Poirot said gently:

“Did you fall in love with Elinor Carlisle the first time you saw her?”

There was a long silence.

“I suppose so.”

Then Peter Lord said:

“Oh, well, I suppose she and Roderick Welman will live happy ever afterwards.”

She had, I fancy, already planned the method of the crime, with the use of the apomorphine to secure her own alibi. She may have meant to get Elinor and Mary to her cottage, but when Elinor came down to the Lodge and asked them both to come up and have sandwiches she realized at once that a perfect opportunity had arisen. The circumstances were such that Elinor was practically certain to be convicted

When New Zealand became too hot, as you say, to hold her, and she came to this country and resumed her profession in the name of Hopkins (a former colleague of hers in hospital who died abroad), Maidensford was her objective. She may perhaps have contemplated some form of blackmail. But old Mrs. Welman was not the kind of woman to allow herself to be blackmailed, and Nurse Riley, or Hopkins, very wisely did not attempt anything of the sort. Doubtless she made inquiries and discovered that Mrs. Welman was a very wealthy woman, and some chance word of Mrs. Welman’s may have revealed the fact that the old lady had not made a will.

“So, on that June evening, when Nurse O’Brien retailed to her colleague that Mrs. Welman was asking for her lawyer, Hopkins did not hesitate. Mrs. Welman must die intestate so that her illegitimate daughter would inherit her money. Hopkins had already made friends with Mary Gerrard and acquired a good deal of influence over the girl. All that she had to do now was to persuade the girl to make a will leaving her money to her mother’s sister; and she inspired the wording of that will very carefully. There was no mention of the relationship: just ‘Mary Riley, sister of the late Eliza Riley.’

My friend, we know something now of this woman Mary Riley or Draper. The police of New Zealand were unable to get sufficient evidence for a conviction, but they had been watching her for some time when she suddenly left the country. There was a patient of hers, an old lady, who left her ‘dear Nurse Riley’ a very snug little legacy, and whose death was somewhat of a puzzle to the doctor attending her. Mary Draper’s husband insured his life in her favour for a considerable sum, and his death was sudden and unaccountable. Unfortunately for her, though he had made out a cheque to the Insurance Company, he had forgotten to post it. Other deaths may lie at her door. It is certain she is a remorseless and unscrupulous woman.

‘For Mary, to be sent to her after my death.’ But the gist of the contents made it perfectly plain that Mary Gerrard was not to know the truth. Also, the word sent (not given) on the envelope was illuminating. It was not Mary Gerrard to whom that letter was written, but another Mary. It was to her sister, Mary Riley, in New Zealand, that Eliza Riley wrote the truth.

“Nurse Hopkins did not find that letter at the Lodge after Mary Gerrard’s death. She had had it in her possession for many years. She received it in New Zealand, where it was sent to her after her sister’s death.”

I visited Nurse Hopkins once more. We both played the comedy very prettily. In the end she allowed herself to be persuaded to tell what she had been aiming to tell all along! Only she tells it, perhaps, just a little sooner than she meant to do! But the opportunity is so good that she cannot resist. And, after all, the truth has got to be known some time. So, with well-feigned reluctance, she produces the letter. And then, my friend, it is no longer conjecture. I know! The letter gives her away.”

The anonymous letter written to Elinor. That was to create bad feeling between Elinor and Mary. The idea doubtless was that Elinor would come down and object to Mary’s influence over Mrs. Welman. The fact that Roderick Welman fell violently in love with Mary was, of course, a totally unforeseen circumstance—but one that Nurse Hopkins was quick to appreciate. Here was a perfect motive for the scapegoat, Elinor.

“But what was the reason for the two crimes? What motive could there be for Nurse Hopkins to do away with Mary Gerrard? I began to see a light—oh, very dim as yet. Nurse Hopkins had a good deal of influence over Mary, and one of the ways she had used that influence was to induce the girl to make a will. But the will did not benefit Nurse Hopkins. It benefited an aunt of Mary’s who lived in New Zealand. And then I remembered a chance remark that someone in the village had made to me. That aunt had been a hospital nurse.

Roderick Welman is a very sensitive creature. To admit that he had been unable to keep to his plan of staying abroad, and had been compelled to slink back and hang round the girl, who would have nothing to do with him, would have been most hurtful to his pride. Since there was no question of his having been near the scene of the murder or of knowing anything about it, he took the line of least resistance and avoided unpleasantness (a most characteristic trait!) by ignoring that hurried visit to England and simply stating that he returned on August 1st when the news of the murder reached him.

She gave a very fine performance of someone who knows something and isn’t going to tell! But when I thought it over carefully I realized that every word she had said on the subject had been uttered with diametrically the opposite end in view. My conversation with Nurse O’Brien confirmed that belief. Hopkins had used her very cleverly without Nurse O’Brien being conscious of the fact.