Lennox stared.
"No, nothing at all."
"And that is all you can tell me?"
"I am afraid so - yes."
"Thank you, M. Boynton."
Poirot inclined his head as a sign that the interview was over.
Lennox did not seem very willing to depart.
He stood hesitating by the door.
"Er - there's nothing else?"
"Nothing.
Perhaps you would be so good as to ask your wife to come here?"
Lennox went slowly out.
On the pad beside him Poirot wrote
"L. B. 4:35 P.M."
7
Poirot looked with interest at the tall dignified young woman who entered the room.
He rose and bowed to her politely.
"Mrs. Lennox Boynton?
Hercule Poirot, at your service."
Nadine Boynton sat down. Her thoughtful eyes were on Poirot's face.
"I hope you do not mind, Madame, my intruding on your sorrow in this way?"
Her gaze did not waver. She did not reply at once.
Her eyes remained steady and grave.
At last, she gave a sigh and said: "I think it is best for me to be quite frank with you, M. Poirot."
"I agree with you, Madame."
"You apologized for intruding upon my sorrow.
That sorrow, M. Poirot, does not exist and it is idle to pretend that it does.
I had no love for my mother-in-law and I cannot honestly say that I regret her death."
"Thank you, Madame, for your plain speaking."
Nadine went on: "Still, although I cannot pretend sorrow, I can admit to another feeling - remorse."
"Remorse?" Poirot's eyebrows went up.
"Yes.
Because, you see, it was I who brought about her death. For that I blame myself bitterly."
"What is this that you are saying, Madame?"
"I am saying that I was the cause of my mother-in-law's death.
I was acting, as I thought, honestly - but the result was unfortunate.
To all intents and purposes, I killed her."
Poirot leaned back in his chair.
"Will you be so kind as to elucidate this statement, Madame?"
Nadine bent her head.
"Yes, that is what I wish to do.
My first reaction, naturally, was to keep my private affairs to myself, but I see that the time has come when it would be better to speak out.
I have no doubt, M. Poirot, that you have often received confidences of a somewhat intimate nature?"
"That, yes."
"Then I will tell you quite simply what occurred.
My married life, M. Poirot, has not been particularly happy.
My husband is not entirely to blame for that - his mother's influence over him has been unfortunate - but I have been feeling for some time that my life was becoming intolerable," She paused and then went on: "On the afternoon of my mother-in-law's death I came to a decision.
I have a friend - a very good friend.
He has suggested more than once that I should throw in my lot with his.
On that afternoon I accepted his proposal."