‘But I can’t—you’ll never—I’ll never forgive myself—’

‘Listen, dear,’ she said. ‘You saved my life, you know. My life and the life of that nice woman, Mrs Upjohn. That counts for something, doesn’t it?’

‘I only wish,’ said Miss Chadwick, ‘I could have given my life for you both. That would have made it all right…’

Miss Bulstrode looked at her with great pity. Miss Chadwick took a great breath, smiled, then, moving her head very slightly to one side, she died…

‘You did give your life, my dear,’ said Miss Bulstrode softly. ‘I hope you realize that—now.’

Chapter 25

Legacy

‘A Mr Robinson has called to see you, sir.’

‘Ah!’ said Hercule Poirot. He stretched out his hand and picked up a letter from the desk in front of him. He looked down on it thoughtfully.

He said: ‘Show him in, Georges.’

The letter was only a few lines,

Dear Poirot,

A Mr Robinson may call upon you in the near future. You may already know something about him. Quite a prominent figure in certain circles. There is a demand for such men in our modern world…I believe, if I may so put it, that he is, in this particular matter, on the side of the angels. This is just a recommendation, if you should be in doubt. Of course, and I underline this, we have no idea as to the matter on which he wishes to consult you…

Ha ha! and likewise ho ho!

Yours ever,

Ephraim Pikeaway

Poirot laid down the letter and rose as Mr Robinson came into the room. He bowed, shook hands, indicated a chair.

Mr Robinson sat, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his large yellow face. He observed that it was a warm day.

‘You have not, I hope, walked here in this heat?’

Poirot looked horrified at the idea. By a natural association of ideas, his fingers went to his moustache. He was reassured. There was no limpness.

Mr Robinson looked equally horrified.

‘No, no, indeed. I came in my Rolls. But these traffic blocks…One sits for half an hour sometimes.’

Poirot nodded sympathetically.

There was a pause—the pause that ensues on part one of conversation before entering upon part two.

‘I was interested to hear—of course one hears so many things—most of them quite untrue—that you had been concerning yourself with the affairs of a girls’ school.’

‘Ah,’ said Poirot. ‘That!’

He leaned back in his chair.

‘Meadowbank,’ said Mr Robinson thoughtfully. ‘Quite one of the premier schools of England.’

‘It is a fine school.’

‘Is? Or was?’

‘I hope the former.’

‘I hope so, too,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘I fear it may be touch and go. Ah well, one must do what one can. A little financial backing to tide over a certain inevitable period of depression. A few carefully chosen new pupils. I am not without influence in European circles.’

‘I, too, have applied persuasion in certain quarters. If, as you say, we can tide things over. Mercifully, memories are short.’