"Gerda got a kick out of it all, you know.
I'd like to make you understand. You're such a clever fellow.
I married her without letting my people know.
She was acting in repertory at the time. My people were the strait-laced kind, and I was going into the firm.
We agreed to keep it dark.
She went on acting. Mabelle Sainsbury Seale was in the company, too.
She knew about us.
Then she went abroad with a touring company.
Gerda heard of her once or twice from India.
Then she stopped writing.
Mabelle got mixed up with some Hindu.
She was always a stupid, credulous girl.
"I wish I could make you understand about my meeting with Rebecca and my marriage.
Gerda understood.
The only way I can put it is that it was like Royalty. I had the chance of marrying a Queen and playing the part of Prince Consort or even King.
I looked on my marriage to Gerda as morganatic. I loved her. I didn't want to get rid of her.
And the whole thing worked splendidly.
I liked Rebecca immensely.
She was a women with a first-class financial brain and mine was just as good. We were good at teamwork. It was supremely exciting.
She was an excellent companion and I think I made her happy.
I was genuinely sorry when she died.
The queer thing was that Gerda and I grew to enjoy the secret thrill of our meetings. We had all sorts of ingenious devices.
She was an actress by nature. She had a repertoire of seven or eight characters – Mrs. Albert Chapman was only one of them. She was an American widow in Paris. I met her there when I went over on business.
And she used to go to Norway with painting things as an artist.
I went there for the fishing.
And then, later, I passed her off as my cousin, Helen Montressor.
It was great fun for us both, and it kept romance alive, I suppose. We could have married officially after Rebecca died – but we didn't want to.
Gerda would have found it hard to live my official life and, of course, something from the past might have been raked up, but I think the real reason we went on more or less the same was that we enjoyed the secrecy of it.
We should have found open domesticity dull."
Blunt paused. He said, and his voice changed and hardened:
"And then that damned fool of a woman messed up everything.
Recognizing me – after all those years!
And she told Amberiotis.
You see – you must see – that something had to be done!
It wasn't only myself – not only the selfish point of view.
If I was ruined and disgraced – the country, my country was hit as well.
For I've done something for England, M. Poirot.
I've held it firm and kept it solvent.
It's free from Dictators – from Fascism and from Communism. I don't really care for money as money.
I do like power – I like to rule – but I don't want to tyrannize.
We are democratic in England – truly democratic.
We can grumble and say what we think and laugh at our politicians.
We're free.
I care for all that – it's been my life work.
But if I went – well, you know what would probably happen, I'm needed, M. Poirot.
And a damned, double-crossing, blackmailing rogue of a Greek was going to destroy my life work.
Something had to be done.
Gerda saw it, too.
We were sorry about the Sainsbury Seale woman – but it was no good.
We'd got to silence her.