Qu'est ce qu'il y a?"
The mere inflection of the superintendent's voice had told him that something had happened.
His own vague misgivings came back to him.
"But quickly, my friend, tell me."
"It's Mrs. Lorrimer."
"Lorrimer - yes?"
"What the devil did you say to her - or did she say to you yesterday?
You never told me anything; in fact you let me think that the Meredith girl was the one we were after."
Poirot said quietly, "What has happened?"
"Suicide."
"Mrs. Lorrimer has committed suicide?"
"That's right.
It seems she has been very depressed and unlike herself lately.
Her doctor had ordered her some sleeping stuff.
Last night she took an overdose."
Poirot drew a deep breath.
"There is no question of - accident?"
"Not the least.
It's all cut and dried.
She wrote to the three of them."
"Which three?"
"The other three. Roberts, Despard, and Miss Meredith.
All fair and square, no beating about the bush.
Just wrote that she would like them to know that she was taking a short cut out of all the mess - that it was she who had killed Shaitana, and that she apologized - apologized! - to all three of them for the inconvenience and annoyance they had suffered.
Perfectly calm businesslike letter.
Absolutely typical of the woman.
She was a cool customer all right."
For a minute or two Poirot did not answer.
So this was Mrs. Lorrimer's final word.
She had determined, after all, to shield Anne Meredith.
A quick painless death instead of a protracted painful one, and her last action an altruistic one - the saving of the girl with whom she felt a secret bond of sympathy.
The whole thing planned and carried out with quiet, ruthless efficiency - a suicide carefully announced to the three interested parties.
What a woman!
His admiration quickened.
It was like her, like her clear-cut determination, her insistence on what she had decided being carried out.
He had thought to have convinced her - but evidently she had preferred her own judgment.
A woman of very strong will.
Battle's voice cut into his meditations.
"What the devil did you say to her yesterday?
You must have put the wind up her and this is the result.
But you implied that the result of your interview was definite suspicion of the Meredith girl."
Poirot was silent a minute or two.
He felt that, dead, Mrs. Lorrimer constrained him to her will as she could not have done if she were living.
He said at last, slowly,
"I was in error."
They were unaccustomed words on his tongue and he did not like them.
"You made a mistake, eh?" said Battle. "All the same she must have thought you were on to her.
It's a bad business, letting her slip through our fingers like this."
"You could not have proved anything against her," said Poirot.
"No, I suppose that's true. Perhaps it's all for the best.