AgathaChristie-HalloweenParty

by Hallowe'en Party (lit)

  surprise, that, because she'd got relations

  living here, and she'd come here anyway

  272

  to live near them. She was very devoted

  to them, Mr. Drake, in particular. And it

  struck people as pretty queer, really. And

  then the lawyers, you see, they began

  saying things. They said as Mrs.

  Llewellyn-Smythe hadn't written that

  codicil at all. That the foreign pair girl had

  done it, seeing as she got all the money

  left to her. And they said as they were

  going to law about it. That Mrs. Drake

  was going to counterset the Will, if that is

  the right word."

  "The lawyers were going to contest the

  Will. Yes, I believe I did hear something

  about that," said Mrs. Oliver encouragingly.

  "And you know something about it, perhaps?"

  "I didn't mean no harm," said Mrs.

  Leaman. A slight whine came into her

  voice, a whine with which Mrs. Oliver had

  been acquainted several times in the past.

  Mrs. Leaman, she thought, was presumably

  an unreliable woman in some ways, a

  snooper perhaps, a listener at doors.

  "I didn't say nothing at the time," said

  Mrs. Leaman, "because you see I didn't

  rightly know. But you see I thought it was

  queer and I'll admit to a lady like you,

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  who knows what these things are, that I

  did want to know the truth about it. I'd

  worked for Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe for

  some time, I had, and one wants to know

  how things happened."

  "Quite," said Mrs. Oliver.

  "If I thought I'd done what I oughtn't

  to have done, well, of course, I'd have

  owned up to it. But I didn't think as I'd

  done anything really wrong, you see. Not

  at the time, if you understand," she added.

  "Oh yes," said Mrs. Oliver, "I'm sure

  I shall understand. Go on. It was about

  this codicil."

  "Yes, you see one day Mrs. LlewellynSmythe--she

  hadn't felt too good that day

  and so she asked us to come in. Me that

  was, and young Jim who helps down in

  the garden and brings the sticks in and the

  coals, and things like that. So we went into

  her room, where she was, and she'd got

  papers before her there on the desk. And

  she turns to this foreign girl-- Miss Olga

  we all called her--and said "You go out of

  the room now, dear, because you mustn't

  be mixed up in this part of it,' or something

  like that. So Miss Olga, she goes out

  of the room and Mrs. LlewellynSmythe,

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  she tells us to come close and she says

  This is my Will, this is.' She's got a bit

  of blotting paper over the top part of it

  but the bottom of it's quite clear. She said

  'I'm writing something here on this piece

  of paper and I want you to be a witness of

  what I've written and of my signature at

  the end of it.' So she starts writing along

  the page. Scratchy pen she always used,

  she wouldn't use Biros or anything like

  that. And she writes two or three lines of

  writing and then she signed her name, and

  then she says to me, 'Now, Mrs. Leaman,

  you write your name there. Your name

  and your address' and then she says to Jim

  'And now you write your name underneath

  there, and your address too. There. That'll

  do. Now you've seen me write that and

  you've seen my signature and you've

  written your names, both of you, to say

  that's that.' And then she says That's all.

  Thank you very much.' So we goes out of

  the room. Well, I didn't think nothing

  more of it at the time, but I wondered a

  bit. And it happened as I turns my head

  just as I was going out of the room. You

  see the door doesn't always latch properly.

  You have to give it a pull, to make it click.

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  And so I was doing that--I wasn't really

  looking, if you know what I mean--"

  "I know what you mean," said Mrs.

  Oliver, in a non-committal voice.

  "And so I sees Mrs. LlewellynSmythe

  pull herself up from the chair--she'd got

  arthritis and had pain moving about some- times--and go over to the bookcase and

  she pulled out a book and she puts that

  piece of paper she'd just signed--in an

  envelope it was--in one of the books. A

  big tall book it was in the bottom shelf.

  And she sticks it back in the bookcase.

  Well, I never thought of it again, as you

  might say. No, really I didn't. But when

  all this fuss came up, well, of course I felt

  --at least, I--" She came to a stop.

  Mrs. Oliver had one of her useful

  intuitions.

  "But surely," she said, "you didn't wait

  as long as all that--"

  "Well, I'll tell you the truth, I will. I'll

  admit I was curious. After all, I mean, you

  want to know when you've signed anything, what you've signed, don't you? I

  mean, it's only human nature."

  "Yes," said Mrs. Oliver, "it's only

  human nature."

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  Curiosity, she thought, was a highly

  component part in Mrs. Leaman's human

  nature.

  "So I will admit that next day, when

  Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe had driven into

  Medchester and I was doing her bedroom

  as usual--a bedsitting room she had

  because she had to rest a lot. And I thinks 'Well, one ought really to know when

  you've signed a thing, what it is you've

  signed.' I mean they always say with these

  hire purchase things, you should read the

  small print."

  "Or in this case, the handwriting,"

  suggested Mrs. Oliver.

  "So I thought, well, there's no harm--

  it's not as though I was taking anything. I

  mean to say I'd had to sign my name

  there, and I thought I really ought to know

  what I'd signed. So I had a look along the

  bookshelves. They needed dusting anyway.

  And I found the one. It was on the

  bottom shelf. It was an old book, a sort of

  Queen Victoria's kind of book. And I

  found this envelope with a folded paper in

  it and the title of the book said Enquire Within upon Everything. And it seemed

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  then as though it was, sort of meant, if

  you know what I mean?"

  "Yes," said Mrs. Oliver. "It was clearly

  meant. And so you took out the paper and

  looked at it."

  "That's right. Madam. And whether I

  did wrong or not I don't know. But

  anyway, there it was. It was a legal document

  all right. On the last page there was

  the writing what she'd made the morning

  before. New writing with a new scratchy

  pen she was using. It was clear enough to

  read, though, although she had a rather

  spiky handwriting."

  "And what did it say?" said Mrs.

  Oliver, her curiosity now h
aving joined

  itself to that previously felt by Mrs.

  Leaman.

  "Well, it said something like, as far as I

  remember--the exact words I'm not quite

  sure of--something about a codicil and

  that after the legacies mentioned in her

  Will, she bequeathed her entire fortune to

  Olga--I'm not sure of the surname, it

  began with an S. Seminoff, or something

  like that--in consideration of her great

  kindness and attention to her during her

  illness. And there it was written down and

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  she'd signed it and I'd signed it, and Jim

  had signed it. So I put it back where

  it was because I shouldn't like Mrs.

  Llewellyn-Smythe to know that I'd been

  poking about in her things.

  "But well, I said to myself, well, this is a surprise. And I thought, fancy that

  foreign girl getting all that money because

  we all know as Mrs. LlewellynSmythe

  was very rich. Her husband had been in

  shipbuilding and he'd left her a big

  fortune, and I thought, well, some people

  have all the luck. Mind you, I wasn't

  particularly fond of Miss Olga myself. She

  had a sharp way with her sometimes and she had quite a bad temper. But I will say

  as she was always very attentive and polite

  and all that, to the old lady. Looking out

  for herself all right, she was, and she got

  away with it. And I thought, well, leaving

  all that money away from her own family.

  Then I thought, well, perhaps she's had a

  tiff with them and likely as not that will

  blow over, so maybe she'll tear this up and

  make another Will and codicil after all.

  But anyway, that was that, and I put it

  back and I forgot about it, I suppose.

  "But when all the fuss came up about

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  the Will, and there was talk of how it had

  been forged and Mrs. LlewellynSmythe

  could never have written that codicil

  herself--for that's what they were saying, mind you, as it wasn't the old lady who

  had written that at all, it was somebody

  else--"

  "I see," said Mrs. Oliver. "And so, what did you do?"

  "I didn't do anything. And that's what's

  worrying me. ... I didn't get the hang of

  things at once. And when I'd thought

  things over a bit I didn't know rightly what I ought to do and I thought, well, it

  was all talk because the Lawyers were

  against the foreigner, like people always

  are. I'm not very fond of foreigners

  myself, I'll admit. At any rate, there it

  was, and the young lady herself was

  swanking about, giving herself airs, looking as pleased as Punch and I thought, well, maybe it's all a legal thing of some

  kind and they'll say she's no right to the

  money because she wasn't related to the

  old lady. So everything will be all right.

  And it was in a way because, you see, they

  gave up the idea of bringing the case. It

  didn't come to court at all and as far as

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  anyone knew. Miss Olga ran away. Went

  off back to the Continent somewhere, where she came from. So it looks as

  though there must have been some hocuspocus

  of some kind on her part. Maybe

  she threatened the old lady and made her

  do it. You never know, do you? One of

  my nephews who's going to be a doctor, says you can do wonderful things

  with hypnotism. I thought perhaps she

  hypnotised the old lady."

  "This was how long ago?"

  "Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe's been dead

  for--let me see, nearly two years."

  "And it didn't worry you?"

  "No, it didn't worry me. Not at the

  time. Because you see, I didn't rightly see

  that it mattered. Everything was all right, there wasn't any question of that Miss

  Olga getting away with the money, so I

  didn't see as it was any call for me--"

  "But now you feel differently?"

  "It's that nasty death--that child that

  was pushed into a bucket of apples. Saying

  things about a murder, saying she'd seen

  something or known something about a

  murder. And I thought maybe as Miss

  Olga had murdered the old lady because

  HP19

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  she knew all this money was coming to her

  and then she got the wind up when there

  was a fuss and lawyers and the police, maybe, and so she ran away. So then I

  thought well, perhaps I ought to--well, I

  ought to tell someone, and I thought you'd

  be a lady as has got friends in legal departments.

  Friends in the police perhaps, and

  you'd explain to them that I was only

  dusting a bookshelf, and this paper was

  there in a book and I put it back where it

  belonged. I didn't take it away or

  anything."

  "But that's what happened, was it, on

  that occasion? You saw Mrs. LlewellynSmythe

  write a codicil to her Will. You

  saw her write her name and you yourself

  and this Jim someone were both there

  and you both wrote your own names

  yourselves. That's it, isn't it?"

  "That's right."

  "So if you both saw Mrs. LlewellynSmythe

  write her name, then that signature

  couldn't have been a forgery, could

  it? Not if you saw her write it herself."

  "I saw her write it herself and that's the

  absolute truth I'm speaking. And Jim'd

  say so too only he's gone to Australia, he

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  has. Went over a year ago and I don't

  know his address or anything. He didn't

  come from these parts, anyway."

  "And what do you want me to do?"

  "Well, I want you to tell me if there's

  anything I ought to say, or do—now.

  Nobody's asked me, mind you. Nobody

  ever asked me if I knew anything about a

  Will."

  "Your name is Leaman. What Christian

  name?"

  "Harriet."

  "Harriet Leaman. And Jim, what was

  his last name?"

  "Well, now, what was it? Jenkins.

  That's right. James Jenkins. I'd be much

  obliged if you could help me because it

  worries me, you see. All this trouble

  coming along and if that Miss Olga did

  it, murdered Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe, I

  mean, and young Joyce saw her do it ...

  She was ever so cock-a-hoop about it all,

  Miss Olga was, I mean about hearing from

  the lawyers as she'd come into a lot of

  money. But it was different when the

  police came round asking questions, and

  she went off very sudden, she did. Nobody

  asked me anything, they didn't. But now

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  I can't help wondering if I ought to have

  said something at the time."

  "I think," said Mrs. Oliver, "that you

  will probably have to tell this story of

  yours to whoever represented Mrs.

  Llewellyn-Smythe as a lawyer. I'm sure a

  good lawyer will quite understand your

  feelings and you
r motive."

  "Well, I'm sure if you'd say a word for

  me and tell them, being a lady as knows

  what's what, how it came about, and how

  I never meant to—well, not to do anything

  dishonest in any way. I mean, all I did—"

  "All you did was to say nothing," said

  Mrs. Oliver. "It seems quite a reasonable

  explanation."

  "And if it could come from you—saying

  a word for me first, you know, to explain,

  I'd be ever so grateful."

  "I'll do what I can," said Mrs. Oliver.

  Her eyes strayed to the garden path

  where she saw a neat figure approaching.

  "Well, thanks ever so much. They said

  as you were a very nice lady, and I'm sure

  I'm much obliged to you."

  She rose to her feet, replaced the cotton

  gloves which she had twisted entirely off

  in her anguish, made a kind of half nod or

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  bob, and trotted off. Mrs. Oliver waited

  until Poirot approached.

  "Come here," she said, "and sit down.

  What's the matter with you? You look

  upset."

  "My feet are extremely painful," said

  Hercule Poirot.

  "It's those awful tight patent leather

  shoes of yours," said Mrs. Oliver. "Sit

  down. Tell me what you came to tell me,

  and then Pll tell you something that you

  may be surprised to hear!"

  285

  18

  POIROT sat down, stretched out his

  legs and said: "Ah! that is better."

  "Take your shoes off," said Mrs.

  Oliver, "and rest your feet."

  "No, no. I could not do that." Poirot

  sounded shocked at the possibility.

  "Well, we're old friends together," said

  Mrs. Oliver, "and Judith wouldn't mind if

  she came out of the house. You know, if

  you'll excuse me saying so, you oughtn't

  to wear patent leather shoes in the

  country. Why don't you get yourself a nice

  pair of suede shoes? Or the things all the

  hippy-looking boys wear nowadays? You

  know, the sort of shoes that slip on, and

  you never have to clean them--apparently

  they clean themselves by some extraordinary

  process or other. One of these

  labour-saving gimmicks."

  "I would not care for that at all," said

  Poirot severely. "No, indeed!"

  "The trouble with you is," said Mrs.

  Oliver, beginning to unwrap a package on

  286

  the table which she had obviously recently