There isn't much more to tell.
Caroline and the governess went down there after lunch.
Meredith followed them.
Presently he came running up. He told us Amyas was dead.
Then I knew!
Knew, I mean, that it was Caroline.
I still didn't think of poison. I thought she'd gone down that minute and either shot or stabbed him.
I wanted to get at her - to kill her... How could she do it?
How could she? He was so alive, so full of life and vigor. To put all that out - to make him limp and cold. Just so that I shouldn't have him.
Horrible woman!... Horrible, scornful, cruel, vindictive woman!...
I hate her!
I still hate her!
They didn't even hang her.
They ought to have hanged her...
Even hanging was too good for her...
I hate her!...
I hate her!...
I hate her!...
(End of Lady Dittisham's Narrative)
Narrative of Cecilia Williams
Dear M. Poirot:
I am sending you an account of those events in September, 19--, actually witnessed by myself.
I have been absolutely frank and have kept nothing back.
You may show it to Carla Crale.
It may pain her, but I have always been a believer in truth. Palliatives are harmful.
One must have the courage to face reality.
Without that courage, life is meaningless.
The people who do us most harm are the people who shield us from reality.
Believe me, yours sincerely, Cecilia Williams.
My name is Cecilia Williams.
I was engaged by Mrs Crale as governess to her half sister, Angela Warren, in 19--.
I was then forty-eight.
I took up my duties at Alderbury, a very beautiful estate in South Devon which had belonged to Mr Crale's family for many generations.
I knew that Mr Crale was a well-known painter but I did not meet him until I took up residence at Alderbury.
The household consisted of Mr and Mrs Crale, Angela Warren (then a girl of thirteen), and three servants, who had been with the family many years.
I found my pupil an interesting and promising character. She had very marked abilities and it was a pleasure to teach her.
She was somewhat wild and undisciplined, but these faults arose mainly through high spirits, and I have always preferred my girls to show spirit.
An excess of vitality can be trained and guided into paths of real usefulness and achievement.
On the whole, I found Angela amenable to discipline.
She had been somewhat spoiled - mainly by Mrs Crale, who was far too indulgent where she was concerned.
Mr Crale's influence was, I considered, unwise.
He indulged her absurdly one day and was unnecessarily peremptory on another occasion.
He was very much a man of moods, possibly owing to what is styled the artistic temperament.
I have never seen, myself, why the possession of artistic ability should be supposed to excuse a man from a decent exercise of self-control.
I did not myself admire Mr Crale's paintings.
The drawing seemed to me faulty and the coloring exaggerated, but, naturally, I was not called upon to express any opinion on these matters.
I soon formed a deep attachment to Mrs Crale.
I admired her character and her fortitude in the difficulties of her life.
Mr Crale was not a faithful husband, and I think that that fact was the source of much pain to her.
A stronger-minded woman would have left him, but Mrs Crale never seemed to contemplate such a course. She endured his infidelities and forgave him for them, but I may say that she did not take them meekly. She remonstrated - and with spirit!