Agatha Christie - Hercule Poirot 20 - Sad Cypress (1940) by Agatha Christie

Author:Agatha Christie [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Classics
ISBN: 0007120710
Amazon: B000FCK9CW
Publisher: William Morrow Paperbacks
Published: 2009-03-17T05:00:00+00:00

Four

In the awesome majesty of Mrs. Bishop’s black-clad presence Hercule Poirot sat humbly insignificant.

The thawing of Mrs. Bishop was no easy matter. For Mrs. Bishop, a lady of Conservative habits and views, strongly disapproved of foreigners. And a foreigner most indubitably Hercule Poirot was. Her responses were frosty and she eyed him with disfavour and suspicion.

Dr. Lord’s introduction of him had done little to soften the situation.

“I am sure,” said Mrs. Bishop when Dr. Lord had gone, “Dr. Lord is a very clever doctor and means well. Dr. Ransome, his predecessor, had been here many years!”

Dr. Ransome, that is to say, could be trusted to behave in a manner suitable to the county. Dr. Lord, a mere irresponsible youngster, an upstart who had taken Dr. Ransome’s place, had only one recommendation: “cleverness” in his profession.

Cleverness, the whole demeamour of Mrs. Bishop seemed to say, is not enough!

Hercule Poirot was persuasive. He was adroit. But charm he never so wisely, Mrs. Bishop remained aloof and implacable.

The death of Mrs. Welman had been very sad. She had been much respected in the neighbourhood. The arrest of Miss Carlisle was “Disgraceful!” and believed to be the result of “these newfangled police methods.” The views of Mrs. Bishop upon the death of Mary Gerrard were vague in the extreme. “I couldn’t say, I’m sure,” being the most she could be brought to say.

Hercule Poirot played his last card. He recounted with naïve pride a recent visit of his to Sandringham. He spoke with admiration of the graciousness and delightful simplicity and kindness of Royalty.

Mrs. Bishop, who followed daily in the court circular the exact movements of Royalty, was overborne. After all, if They had sent for Mr. Poirot… Well, naturally, that made All the Difference. Foreigner or no foreigner, who was she, Emma Bishop, to hold back where Royalty had led the way?

Presently she and M. Poirot were engaged in pleasant conversation on a really interesting theme—no less than the selection of a suitable future husband for Princess Elizabeth.

Having finally exhausted all possible candidates as Not Good Enough, the talk reverted to less exalted circles.

Poirot observed sententiously:

“Marriage, alas, is fraught with dangers and pitfalls!”

Mrs. Bishop said:

“Yes, indeed—with this nasty divorce,” rather as though she were speaking of a contagious disease such as chickenpox.

“I expect,” said Poirot, “that Mrs. Welman, before her death, must have been anxious to see her niece suitably settled in life?”

Mrs. Bishop bowed her head.

“Yes, indeed. The engagement between Miss Elinor and Mr. Roderick was a great relief to her. It was a thing she had always hoped for.”

Poirot ventured:

“The engagement was perhaps entered into partly from a wish to please her?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t say that, Mr. Poirot. Miss Elinor has always been devoted to Mr. Roddy—always was, as a tiny tot—quite beautiful to see. Miss Elinor has a very loyal and devoted nature!”

Poirot murmured:

“And he?”

Mrs. Bishop said austerely:

“Mr. Roderick was devoted to Miss Elinor.”

Poirot said:

“Yet the engagement, I think, was broken off?”

The colour rose in Mrs. Bishop’s face. She said:

“Owing, Mr.

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