Sad Cypress (19 page)

“Well—yes, that is so.”

“Did you go and see this girl Mary Gerrard in London on the 25th at her lodgings?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you ask her to marry you?”

“Er—er—yes.”

“What was her answer?”

“She refused.”

“You are not a rich man, Mr. Welman?”

“No.”

“And you are rather heavily in debt?”

“What business is that of yours?”

“Were you not aware of the fact that Miss Carlisle had left all her money to you in the event of her death?”

“This is the first I have heard of it.”

“Were you in Maidensford on the morning of July 27th?”

“I was not.”

Sir Edwin sat down.

Counsel for the Prosecution said:

“You say that in your opinion the accused was not deeply in love with you.”

“That is what I said.”

“Are you a chivalrous man, Mr. Welman?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“If a lady were deeply in love with you and you were not in love with her, would you feel it incumbent upon you to conceal the fact?”

“Certainly not.”

“Where did you go to school, Mr. Welman?”

“Eton.”

Sir Samuel said with a quiet smile:

“That is all.”

V

Alfred James Wargrave.

“You are a rose grower and live at Emsworth, Berks?”

“Yes.”

“Did you on October 20th go to Maidensford and examine a rose tree growing at the Lodge at Hunterbury Hall?”

“I did.”

“Will you describe this tree?”

“It was a climbing rose—Zephyrine Drouhin. It bears a sweetly scented pink flower. It has no thorns.”

“It would be impossible to prick oneself on a rose tree of this description?”

“It would be quite impossible. It is a thornless tree.”

No cross-examination.

VI

“You are James Arthur Littledale. You are a qualified chemist and employed by the wholesale chemists, Jenkins & Hale?”

“I am.”

“Will you tell me what this scrap of paper is?”

The exhibit was handed to him.

“It is a fragment of one of our labels.”

“What kind of label?”

“The label we attach to tubes of hypodermic tablets.”

“Is there enough here for you to say definitely what drug was in the tube to which this label was attached?”

“Yes. I should say quite definitely that the tube in question contained hypodermic tablets of apomorphine hydrochloride 1/20 grain.”

“Not morphine hydrochloride?”

“No, it could not be that.”

“Why not?”

“On such a tube the word Morphine is spelt with a capital M. The end of the line of the m here, seen under my magnifying glass, shows plainly that it is part of a small m, not a capital M.”

“Please let the jury examine it with the glass. Have you labels here to show what you mean?”

The labels were handed to the jury.

Sir Edwin resumed:

“You say this is from a tube of apomorphine hydrochloride? What exactly is apomorphine hydrochloride?”

“The formula is C
₁₇
H
₁₇
NO
_2.
It is a derivative of morphine prepared by saponifying morphine by heating it with dilute hydrochloric acid in sealed tubes. The morphine loses one molecule of water.”

“What are the special properties of apomorphine?”

Mr. Littledale said quietly:

“Apomorphine is the quickest and most powerful emetic known. It acts within a few minutes.”

“So if anybody had swallowed a lethal dose of morphine and
were
to inject a dose of apomorphine hypodermically within a few minutes,
what would result?”

“Vomiting would take place almost immediately and the morphine would be expelled from the system.”

“Therefore, if two people were to share the same sandwich
or drink from the same pot of tea,
and one of them were then to inject a dose of apomorphine hypodermically, what would be the result, supposing the shared food or drink to have contained morphine?”

“The food or drink together with the morphine would be vomited by the person who injected the apomorphine.”

“And that person would suffer no ill results?”

“No.”

There was suddenly a stir of excitement in court and order for silence from the judge.

VII

“You are Amelia Mary Sedley and you reside ordinarily at 17 Charles Street, Boonamba, Auckland?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know a Mrs. Draper?”

“Yes. I have known her for over twenty years.”

“Do you know her maiden name?”

“Yes. I was at her marriage. Her name was Mary Riley.”

“Is she a native of New Zealand?”

“No, she came out from England.”

“You have been in court since the beginning of these proceedings?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Have you seen this Mary Riley—or Draper—in court?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you see her?”

“Giving evidence in this box.”

“Under what name?”

“Jessie Hopkins.”

“And you are quite sure that this Jessie Hopkins is the woman you know as Mary Riley or Draper?”

“Not a doubt of it.”

A slight commotion at the back of the court.

“When did you last see Mary Draper—until today?”

“Five years ago. She went to England.”

Sir Edwin said with a bow:

“Your witness.”

Sir Samuel, rising with a slightly perplexed face, began:

“I suggest to you, Mrs.—Sedley, that you may be mistaken.”

“I'm not mistaken.”

“You may have been misled by a chance resemblance.”

“I know Mary Draper well enough.”

“Nurse Hopkins is a certificated District Nurse.”

“Mary Draper was a hospital nurse before her marriage.”

“You understand, do you not, that you are accusing a Crown witness of perjury?”

“I understand what I'm saying.”

VIII

“Edward John Marshall, you lived for some years in Auckland, New Zealand, and now reside at 14 Wren Street, Deptford?”

“That's right.”

“Do you know Mary Draper?”

“I've known her for years in New Zealand.”

“Have you seen her today in court?”

“I have. She called herself Hopkins; but it was Mrs. Draper all right.”

The judge lifted his head. He spoke in a small, clear, penetrating voice:

“It is desirable, I think, that the witness Jessie Hopkins should be recalled.”

A pause, a murmur.

“Your lordship, Jessie Hopkins left the court a few minutes ago.”

IX

“Hercule Poirot.”

Hercule Poirot entered the box, took the oath, twirled his moustache and waited, with his head a little on one side. He gave his name and address and calling.

“M. Poirot, do you recognize this document?”

“Certainly.”

“How did it originally come into your possession?”

“It was given me by the District Nurse, Nurse Hopkins.”

Sir Edwin said:

“With your permission, my lord, I will read this aloud, and it can then go to the jury.”

C
losing speech for the Defence.

“Gentlemen of the jury, the responsibility now rests with you. It is for you to say if Elinor Carlisle is to go forth free from the court. If, after the evidence you have heard, you are satisfied that Elinor Carlisle poisoned Mary Gerrard, then it is your duty to pronounce her guilty.

“But if it should seem to you that there is equally strong evidence, and perhaps far stronger evidence against another person, then it is your duty to free the accused without more ado.

“You will have realized by now that the facts of the case are very different from what they originally appeared to be.

“Yesterday, after the dramatic evidence given by M. Hercule Poirot, I called other witnesses to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that the girl Mary Gerrard was the illegitimate daughter of Laura Welman. That being true, it follows, as his lordship will doubtless instruct you, that Mrs. Welman's next of kin was not
her niece, Elinor Carlisle, but her illegitimate daughter who went by the name of Mary Gerrard. And therefore Mary Gerrard at Mrs. Welman's death inherited a vast fortune. That, gentlemen, is the crux of the situation. A sum in the neighbourhood of two hundred thousand pounds was inherited by Mary Gerrard. But she herself was unaware of the fact. She was also unaware of the true identity of the woman Hopkins. You may think, gentlemen, that Mary Riley or Draper may have had some perfectly legitimate reason for changing her name to Hopkins. If so, why has she not come forward to state what the reason was?

“All that we do know is this: That at Nurse Hopkins' instigation, Mary Gerrard made a will leaving everything she had to ‘Mary Riley, sister of Eliza Riley.' We know that Nurse Hopkins, by reason of her profession, had access to morphine and to apomorphine and was well acquainted with their properties. Furthermore, it has been proved that Nurse Hopkins was not speaking the truth when she said that her wrist had been pricked by a thorn from a thornless rose tree. Why did she lie, if it were not that she wanted hurriedly
to account for the mark just made by the hypodermic needle?
Remember, too, that the accused has stated on oath that Nurse Hopkins, when she joined her in the pantry, was looking ill, and her face was of a greenish colour—comprehensible enough if she had just been violently sick.

“I will underline yet another point:
If
Mrs. Welman had lived twenty-four hours longer, she would have made a will; and in all probability that will would have made a suitable provision for Mary Gerrard, but would not have left her the bulk of her fortune, since it was Mrs. Welman's belief that her unacknowledged daughter would be happier if she remained in another sphere of life.

“It is not for me to pronounce on the evidence against another person, except to show that this other person had equal opportunities and a far stronger motive for the murder.

“Looked at from that point of view, gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you that the case against Elinor Carlisle falls to the ground….”

II

From Mr. Justice Beddingfield's summing-up:

“…You must be perfectly satisfied that this woman did, in fact, administer a dangerous dose of morphia to Mary Gerrard on July 27th. If you are not satisfied, you must acquit the prisoner.

“The Prosecution has stated that the only person who had the opportunity to administer poison to Mary Gerrard was the accused. The Defence has sought to prove that there were other alternatives. There is the theory that Mary Gerrard committed suicide, but the only evidence in support of that theory is the fact that Mary Gerrard made a will shortly before she died. There is not the slightest proof that she was depressed or unhappy or in a state of mind likely to lead her to take her own life. It has also been suggested that the morphine might have been introduced into the sandwiches by someone entering the pantry during the time that Elinor Carlisle was at the Lodge. In that case, the poison was intended for Elinor Carlisle, and Mary Gerrard's death was a mistake. The third alternative suggested by the Defence is that another person had an equal opportunity to administer morphine, and that in the latter case the poison was introduced into the tea and not into the sandwiches. In support of that theory the Defence has called the witness Lit
tledale, who has sworn that the scrap of paper found in the pantry was part of a label on a tube containing tablets of apomorphine hydrochloride, a very powerful emetic. You have had an example of both types of labels submitted to you. In my view, the police were guilty of gross carelessness in not checking the original fragment more closely and in jumping to the conclusion that it was a morphine label.

“The witness Hopkins has stated that she pricked her wrist on a rose tree at the Lodge. The witness Wargrave has examined that tree, and it has no thorns on it. You have to decide what caused the mark on Nurse Hopkins' wrist and why she should tell a lie about it….

“If the Prosecution has convinced you that the accused and no other committed the crime, then you must find the accused guilty.

“If the alternative theory suggested by the Defence is possible and consistent with the evidence, the accused must be acquitted.

“I will ask you to consider the verdict with courage and diligence, weighing only the evidence that has been put before you.”

III

Elinor was brought back into the court.

The jury filed in.

“Gentlemen of the jury, are you agreed upon your verdict?”

“Yes.”

“Look upon the prisoner at the bar, and say whether she is guilty or not guilty.”

“Not guilty….”

T
hey had brought her out by a side door.

She had been aware of faces welcoming her… Roddy…the detective with the big moustaches….

But it was to Peter Lord that she turned.

“I want to get away….”

She was with him now in the smooth Daimler, driving rapidly out of London.

He had said nothing to her. She had sat in the blessed silence.

Every minute taking her farther and farther away.

A new life….

That was what she wanted….

A new life.

She said suddenly:

“I—I want to go somewhere quiet…where there won't be any
faces
….”

Peter Lord said quietly:

“That's all arranged. You're going to a sanatorium. Quiet place. Lovely gardens. No one will bother you—or get at you.”

She said with a sigh:

“Yes—that's what I want….”

It was being a doctor, she supposed, that made him understand. He knew—and didn't bother her. So blessedly peaceful to be here with him, going away from it all, out of London…to a place that was
safe
….

She wanted to forget—forget everything… None of it was real any longer. It was all gone, vanished, finished with—the old life and the old emotions. She was a new, strange, defenceless creature, very crude and raw, beginning all over again. Very strange and very afraid….

But it was comforting to be with Peter Lord….

They were out of London now, passing through suburbs.

She said at last:

“It was all you—all you….”

Peter Lord said:

“It was Hercule Poirot. The fellow's a kind of magician!”

But Elinor shook her head. She said obstinately:

“It was
you. You
got hold of him and made him do it!”

Peter grinned.

“I made him do it all right….”

Elinor said:

“Did you know I hadn't done it, or weren't you sure?”

Peter said simply:

“I was never quite sure.”

Elinor said:

“That's why I nearly said: ‘guilty' right at the beginning…
because, you see, I
had
thought of it… I thought of it that day when I laughed outside the cottage.”

Peter said:

“Yes, I knew.”

She said wonderingly:

“It seems so queer now…like a kind of possession. That day I bought the paste and cut the sandwiches I was pretending to myself, I was thinking: ‘I've mixed poison with this, and when she eats she will die—and then Roddy will come back to me.'”

Peter Lord said:

“It helps some people to pretend that sort of thing to themselves. It isn't a bad thing, really. You take it out of yourself in a fantasy. Like sweating a thing out of your system.”

Elinor said:

“Yes, that's true. Because it went—suddenly! The blackness, I mean! When that woman mentioned the rose tree outside the Lodge—it all swung back into—into being normal again….”

Then with a shiver she said:

“Afterwards when we went into the morning room and she was dead—dying, at least—I felt then: Is there much difference between
thinking
and
doing
murder?”

Peter Lord said:

“All the difference in the world!”

“Yes, but is there?”

“Of course there is! Thinking murder doesn't really do any harm. People have silly ideas about that; they think it's the same as
planning
murder! It isn't. If you think murder long enough, you suddenly come through the blackness and feel that it's all rather silly!”

Elinor cried:

“Oh! you
are
a comforting person….”

Peter Lord said rather incoherently:

“Not at all. Just common sense.”

Elinor said, and there were suddenly tears in her eyes:

“Every now and then—in court—I looked at you. It gave me courage. You looked so—so
ordinary.
”

Then she laughed. “That's rude!”

He said:

“I understand. When you're in the middle of a nightmare something ordinary is the only hope. Anyway, ordinary things are the best, I've always thought so.”

For the first time since she had entered the car she turned her head and looked at him.

The sight of his face didn't hurt her as Roddy's face always hurt her; it gave her no sharp pang of pain and pleasure mixed; instead, it made her feel warm and comforted.

She thought:

“How nice his face is…nice and funny—and, yes, comforting….”

They drove on.

They came at last to a gateway and a drive that wound upwards till it reached a quiet white house on the side of a hill.

He said:

“You'll be quite safe here. No one will bother you.”

Impulsively she laid her hand on his arm.

She said:

“You—you'll come and see me?”

“Of course.”

“Often?”

Peter Lord said:

“As often as you want me.”

She said:

“Please come—
very often
….”