You - er - didn't mean this to happen, Monsieur Poirot?"
Poirot's disclaimer was indignant. Then he said, "Tell me exactly what has occurred."
"Roberts opened his letters just before eight o'clock.
He lost no time, dashed off at once in his car, leaving his parlormaid to communicate with us, which she did.
He got to the house to find that Mrs. Lorrimer hadn't been called yet - rushed up to her bedroom but it was too late.
He tried artificial respiration but there was nothing doing.
Our divisional surgeon arrived soon after and confirmed his treatment."
"What was the sleeping stuff?"
"Veronal, I think.
One of the Barbitonum series, at any rate.
There was a bottle of tablets by her bed."
"What about the other two?
Did they not try to communicate with you?"
"Despard is out of town.
He hasn't had this morning's post."
"And - Miss Meredith.?"
"I've just rung her up."
"Eh bien?"
"She had just opened the letter a few moments before my call came through.
Post is later there."
"What was her reaction?"
"A perfectly proper attitude.
Intense relief decently veiled.
Shocked and grieved - that sort of thing."
Poirot paused a moment, then he said,
"Where are you now, my friend?"
"At Cheyne Lane."
"Bien.
I will come round immediately."
In the hall at Cheyne Lane he found Doctor Roberts on the point of departure.
The doctor's usual florid manner was rather in abeyance this morning.
He looked pale and shaken.
"Nasty business this, Monsieur Poirot.
I can't say I'm not relieved - from my own point of view - but to tell you the truth it's a bit of a shock.
I never really thought for a minute that it was Mrs. Lorrimer who stabbed Shaitana.
It's been the greatest surprise to me."
"I, too, am surprised."
"Quiet, well-bred, self-contained woman.
Can't imagine her doing a violent thing like that.
What was the motive, I wonder?
Oh, well, we shall never know now.
I confess I'm curious, though."
"It must take a load off your mind - this occurrence."
"Oh, it does undoubtedly.
It would be hypocrisy not to admit it.
It's not very pleasant to have a suspicion of murder hanging over you.
As for the poor woman herself - well, it was undoubtedly the best way out."
"So she thought herself."
Roberts nodded.
"Conscience, I suppose," he said as he let himself out of the house.