He was finding it, I think, difficult to concentrate.
His method of reaction to his surroundings was to retire further and further within himself. He was definitely an introvert."
"And his wife?"
"His wife, though tired and unhappy, showed no signs of mental conflict.
She was, I believe, hesitating on the brink of a decision."
"Such a decision being?"
"Whether or not to leave her husband."
He repeated the conversation he had held with Jefferson Cope.
Poirot nodded in comprehension.
"And what of the younger girl, Ginevra her name is, is it not?"
The Frenchman's face was grave.
He said: "I should say that mentally she is in an extremely dangerous condition.
She has already begun to display symptoms of schizophrenia.
Unable to bear the suppression of her life, she is escaping into a realm of fantasy.
She has advanced delusions of persecution - that is to saw, she claims to be a Royal Personage in danger, enemies surrounding her, all the usual things!"
"And that is dangerous?"
"Very dangerous.
It is the beginning of what is often homicidal mania.
The sufferer kills - not for the lust of killing - but in self-defense. He or she kills in order not to be killed themselves.
From their point of view it is eminently rational."
"So you think that Ginevra Boynton might have killed her mother?"
"Yes.
But I doubt if she would have had the knowledge or the constructiveness to do it the way it was done.
The cunning of that class of mania is usually very simple and obvious.
And I am almost certain she would have chosen a more spectacular method."
"But she is a possibility?" Poirot insisted.
"Yes," admitted Gerard.
"And afterwards - when the deed was done? Do you think the rest of the family knew who had done it?"
"They know!" said Colonel Carbury unexpectedly. "If ever I came across a bunch of people who had something to hide these are they! They're putting something over, all right."
"We will make them tell us what it is," said Poirot.
"Third degree?" said Colonel Carbury, raising his eyebrows.
"No." Poirot shook his head. "Just ordinary conversation.
On the whole, you know, people tell you the truth. Because it is easier! Because it is less strain on the inventive faculties!
You can tell one lie - or two lies, or three or even four lies - but you cannot lie all the time.
The truth becomes plain."
"Something in that," agreed Carbury. Then he said bluntly: "You'll talk to them, you say?
That means you're willing to take this on?"
Poirot bowed his head.
"Let us be very clear about this," he said. "What you demand, and what I undertake to supply, is the truth. But mark this, even when we have got the truth, there may be no proof. That is to say, no proof that would be accepted in a court of law.
You comprehend?"
"Quite," said Carbury. "You satisfy me of what really happened, then it's up to me to decide whether action is possible or not - having regard to the International aspects.
Anyway it will be cleared up - no mess.
Don't like a mess."
Poirot smiled.
"One more thing," said Carbury. "I can't give you much time. Can't detain these people here indefinitely."
Poirot said quietly: "You can detain them twenty-four hours. You shall have the truth by tomorrow night."
Colonel Carbury stared hard at him.
"Pretty confident, aren't you?" he asked.
"I know my own ability," murmured Poirot.
Rendered uncomfortable by this un-British attitude, Colonel Carbury looked away and fingered his untidy moustache.