‘And then they hear the footsteps of the two Blakes, and Caroline comes out and, slightly embarrassed, murmurs something about Angela and school and having a lot to do, and by a natural association of ideas the two men judge the conversation they have overheard refers toAngela, and “I’ll send her packing” becomes “I’ll see to her packing.”

‘And Elsa, pullover in hand, comes down the path, cool and smiling, and takes up the pose once more.

‘She has counted, no doubt, upon Caroline’s being suspected and the coniine bottle being found in her room. But Caroline now plays into her hands completely. She brings down some iced beer and pours it out for her husband.

‘Amyas tosses it off, making a face and says: “Everything tastes foul today.”

‘Do you not see how significant that remark is?Everything tastes foul? Then there has been something elsebefore that beer that has tasted unpleasant and the taste of which isstill in his mouth. And one other point. Philip Blake speaks of Crale’s staggering a little and wonders “if he has been drinking.” But that slight stagger was thefirst sign of the coniine working, and that meansthat it had already been administered to him some time before Caroline brought him the iced bottle of beer.

‘And so Elsa Greer sat on the grey wall and posed and, since she must keep him from suspecting until it was too late, she talked to Amyas Crale brightly and naturally. Presently she saw Meredith on the bench above and waved her hand to him and acted her part even more thoroughly for his behalf.

‘And Amyas Crale, a man who detested illness and refused to give in to it, painted doggedly on till his limbs failed and his speech thickened, and he sprawled there on that bench, helpless, but with his mind still clear.

‘The bell sounded from the house and Meredith left the bench to come down to the Battery. I think in that brief moment Elsa left her place and ran across to the table and dropped the last few drops of the poison into the beer glass that held that last innocent drink. (She got rid of the dropper on the path up to the house-crushing it to powder.) Then she met Meredith in the doorway.

‘There is a glare there coming in out of the shadows. Meredith did not see very clearly-only his friend sprawled in a familiar position and saw his eyes turn from the picture in what he described as a malevolent glare.

‘How much did Amyas know or guess? How much his conscious mind knew we cannot tell, but his hand and his eye were faithful.’

Hercule Poirot gestured towards the picture on the wall.

‘I should have known when I first saw that picture. For it is a very remarkable picture. It is the picture of a murderess painted by her victim-it is the picture of a girl watching her lover die…’

In the silence that followed-a horrified, appalled silence, the sunset slowly flickered away, the last gleam left the window where it had rested on the dark head and pale furs of the woman sitting there.

Elsa Dittisham moved and spoke. She said:

‘Take them away, Meredith. Leave me with M. Poirot.’

She sat there motionless until the door shut behind them. Then she said: ‘You are very clever, aren’t you?’

Poirot did not answer.

She said: ‘What do you expect me to do? Confess?’

He shook his head.

Elsa said:

‘Because I shall do nothing of the kind! And I shall admit nothing. But what we say here, together, does not matter. Because it is only a question of your word against mine.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I want to know what you are going to do?’

Hercule Poirot said:

‘I shall do everything I can to induce the authorities to grant a posthumous free pardon to Caroline Crale.’

Elsa laughed. She said: ‘How absurd! To be given a free pardon for something you didn’t do.’ Then she said: ‘What about me?’

‘I shall lay my conclusion before the necessary people. If they decide there is the possibility of making out a case against you then they may act. I will tell you in my opinion there is not sufficient evidence-there are only inferences, not facts. Moreover, they will not be anxious to proceed against any one in your position unless there is ample justification for such a course.’

Elsa said:

‘I shouldn’t care. If I were standing in the dock, fighting for my life-there might be something in that-something alive-exciting. I might-enjoy it.’

‘Your husband would not.’

She stared at him.

‘Do you think I care in the least what my husband would feel?’

‘No, I do not. I do not think you have ever in your life cared about what any other person would feel. If you had, you might be happier.’

She said sharply:

‘Why are you sorry for me?’

‘Because, my child, you have so much to learn.’

‘What have I got to learn?’

‘All the grown-up emotions-pity, sympathy, understanding. The only things you know-have ever known-are love and hate.’

Elsa said:

‘I saw Caroline take the coniine. I thought she meant to kill herself. That would have simplified things. And then, the next morning, I found out. He told her that he didn’t care a button about me-hehad cared, but it was all over. Once he’d finished the picture he’d send me packing. She’d nothing to worry about, he said.

‘And she-was sorry for me…Do you understand what that did to me? I found the stuff and I gave it to him and I sat there watching him die. I’ve never felt so alive, so exultant, so full of power. I watched him die…’

She flung out her hands.

‘I didn’t understand that I was killingmyself -not him. Afterwards I saw her caught in a trap-and that was no good either. I couldn’t hurt her-she didn’t care-she escaped from it all-half the time she wasn’t there. She and Amyas both escaped-they went somewhere where I couldn’t get at them. But they didn’t die.I died.’

Elsa Dittisham got up. She went across to the door. She said again:

‘I died…’

In the hall she passed two young people whose life together was just beginning.

The chauffeur held open the door of the car. Lady Dittisham got in and the chauffeur wrapped the fur rug round her knees.