"I agree with you, Madame."

"You apologized for intruding upon my sorrow. That sorrow, M. Poirot, does not exist and it is idle to pretend that it does. I had no love for my mother-in-law and I cannot honestly say that I regret her death."

"Thank you, Madame, for your plain speaking."

Nadine went on: "Still, although I cannot pretend sorrow, I can admit to another feeling—remorse."

"Remorse?" Poirot's eyebrows went up.

"Yes. Because, you see, it was I who brought about her death. For that I blame myself bitterly."

"What is this that you are saying, Madame?"

"I am saying that I was the cause of my mother-in-law's death. I was acting, as I thought, honestly—but the result was unfortunate. To all intents and purposes, I killed her."

Poirot leaned back in his chair. "Will you be so kind as to elucidate this statement, Madame?"

Nadine bent her head. "Yes, that is what I wish to do. My first reaction, naturally, was to keep my private affairs to myself, but I see that the time has come when it would be better to speak out. I have no doubt, M. Poirot, that you have often received confidences of a somewhat intimate nature?"

"That, yes."

"Then I will tell you quite simply what occurred. My married life, M. Poirot, has not been particularly happy. My husband is not entirely to blame for that—his mother's influence over him has been unfortunate—but I have been feeling for some time that my life was becoming intolerable,"

She paused and then went on: "On the afternoon of my mother-in-law's death I came to a decision. I have a friend—a very good friend. He has suggested more than once that I should throw in my lot with his. On that afternoon I accepted his proposal."

"You decided to leave your husband?"

"Yes."

"Continue, Madame."

Nadine said in a lower voice: "Having once made my decision I wanted to—to establish it as soon as possible. I walked home to the camp by myself. My mother-in-law was sitting alone, there was one about, and I decided to break the news to her right there. I got a chair, sat down by her and told her abruptly what I had decided."

"She was surprised?"

"Yes I am afraid it was a great shock to her. She was both surprised and angry—very angry. She—she worked herself into quite a state about it! Presently I refused to discuss the matter any longer. I got up and walked away." Her voice dropped. "I—I never saw her again alive."

Poirot nodded his head slowly. He said: "I see." Then he said: "You think her death was the result of the shock?"

"It seems to me almost certain. You see, she had already overexerted herself considerably getting to this place. My news, and her anger at it, would do the rest. . . . I feel additionally guilty because I have had a certain amount of training in illness and so I, more than anyone else, ought to have realized the possibility of such a thing happening."