She said, "Miss Williams loved my mother. She saw her - with her own eyes - faking that suicide evidence.
If you believe what she says -"
Hercule Poirot got up.
"Mademoiselle," he said, "because Cecilia Williams says she saw your mother faking Amyas Crale s fingerprints on the beer bottle - on the beer bottle, mind - that is the one thing I need to tell me definitely, once for all, that your mother did not kill your father."
He nodded his head several times and went out of the room, leaving Carla staring after him.
"Well, M. Poirot?" Philip Blake's tone was impatient.
Poirot said, "I have to thank you for your admirable and lucid account of, the Crale tragedy." Philip Blake looked rather self-conscious.
"Very kind of you," he murmured. "Really surprising how much I remembered when I got down to it."
Poirot said,
"It was an admirably clear narrative, but there were certain omissions, were there not?"
"Omissions?" Philip Blake frowned.
Hercule Poirot said, "Your narrative, shall we say, was not entirely frank." His tone hardened. "I have been informed, Mr Blake, that on at least one night during the summer Mrs Crale was seen coming out of your room at a somewhat compromising hour."
There was a silence broken only by Philip Blake's heavy breathing.
He said at last,
"Who told you that?"
Hercule Poirot shook his head.
"It is no matter who told me.
That I know, that is the point."
Again there was a silence, then Philip Blake made up his mind.
He said,
"By accident, it seems, you have stumbled upon a purely private matter. I admit that it does not square with what I have written down. Nevertheless, it squares better than you might think.
I am forced now to tell you the truth.
"I did entertain a feeling of animosity toward Caroline Crale.
At the same time I was always strongly attracted by her.
Perhaps the latter fact induced the former. I resented the power she had over me and tried to stifle the attraction she had for me by constantly dwelling on her worst points.
I never liked her, if you understand. But it would have been easy at any moment for me to make love to her.
I had been in love with her as a boy and she had taken no notice of me. I did not find that easy to forgive.
"My opportunity came when Amyas lost his head so completely over the Greer girl.
Quite without meaning to, I found myself telling Caroline I loved her.
She said quite calmly,
"Yes, I have always known that."
The insolence of the woman!
"Of course, I knew that she didn't love me, but I saw that she was disturbed and disillusioned by Amyas's present infatuation.
That is a mood when a woman can very easily be won.
She agreed to come to me that night.
And she came."
Blake paused.
He found now a difficulty in getting the words out.
"She came to my room.
And then, with my arms around her, she told me quite coolly that it was no good! After all, she said, she was a one-man woman. She was Amyas Crale's, for better or worse.
She agreed that she had treated me very badly, but she said she couldn't help it.
She asked me to forgive her. "And she left me. She left me!
Do you wonder, M. Poirot, that my hatred of her was heightened a hundredfold?
Do you wonder that I have never forgiven her?
For the insult she did me, as well as for the fact that she killed the friend I loved better than anyone in the world!"
Trembling violently, Philip Blake exclaimed:
"I don't want to speak of it, do you hear?
You've got your answer. Now go!
And never mention the matter to me again!"
"I want to know, Mr Blake, the order in which your guests left the laboratory that day."