"Did you believe your own words?"
Miss Williams raised her head.
"No, I did not," she said firmly.
"But please understand, M. Poirot, that I was entirely on Mrs Crale's side, if you like to put it that way.
My sympathies were with her, not with the police."
"You would have liked to have seen her acquitted?"
Miss Williams said defiantly,
"Yes, I would."
"Then you are in sympathy with her daughter's feelings?"
"I have every sympathy with Carla."
"Would you have any objection to writing out for me a detailed account of the tragedy?"
"You mean for her to read?"
"Yes."
Miss Williams said slowly,
"No, I have no objection.
She is quite determined to go into the matter, is she?"
"Yes.
I dare say it would have been preferable if the truth had been kept from her -"
Miss Williams interrupted him.
"No. It is always better to face the truth.
It is no use evading unhappiness, by tampering with facts.
Carla has had a shock, learning the truth - now she wants to know exactly how the tragedy came about.
That seems to me the right attitude for a brave young woman to take.
Once she knows all about it she will be able to forget it again and go on with the business of living her own life."
"Perhaps you are right," said Poirot.
"I'm quite sure I'm right."
"But, you see, there is more to it than that.
She not only wants to know - she wants to prove her mother innocent."
Miss Williams said, "Poor child."
"That is what you say, is it?"
Miss Williams said,
"I see now why you said that it might be better if she had never known.
All the same, I think it is best as it is.
To wish to find her mother innocent is a natural hope - and, hard though the actual revelation may be, I think, from what you say of her, that Carla is brave enough to learn the truth and not flinch from it."
"You are sure it is the truth?" Poirot asked.
"I don't understand you."
"You see no loophole for believing that Mrs Crale was innocent?"
"I don't think that possibility has ever been seriously considered."
"And yet she herself clung to the theory of suicide?"
Miss Williams said dryly,
"The poor woman had to say something."
"Do you know that when Mrs Crale was dying she left a letter for her daughter in which she solemnly swears that she is innocent?"
Miss Williams stared.
"That was very wrong of her," she said sharply.
"You think so?"
"Yes, I do.
Oh, I dare say you are a sentimentalist like most men -"
Poirot interrupted indignantly.
"I am not a sentimentalist."
"But there is such a thing as false sentiment.