deepened. But she merely shook her head

perplexedly.

"Perhaps," Poirot suggested, "Doctor

Oldfield and his wife did not get on well

together and it was that that started the

rumour ?"

Nurse Harrison shook her head decidedly.

"Oh no. Doctor Oldfield was always

extremely kind and patient with his wife."

"He was really very fond of her ?"

She hesitated.

"No --I would not quite say that. Mrs.

Oldfield was a very difficult woman, not

easy to please and making constant demands

for sympathy and attention which

were not always justified."

"You mean," said Poirot, "that she

exaggerated her condition ?"

The nurse nodded.

"Yes --her bad health was largely a matter other own imagination." 81

"And yet," said Poirot gravely, "she

died...."

"Oh, I know --I know...."

He watched her for a minute or two;

her troubled perplexity--her palpable

uncertainty.

He said: "I think--I am sure--that

you do know what first gave rise to all these

stories."

Nurse Harrison flushed.

She said:

"Well --I could, perhaps, make a guess.

I believe it was the maid, Beatrice, who

started all these rumours and I think I

know what put it into her head."

"Yes ?"

Nurse Harrison said rather incoherently:

"You see, it was something I happened

to overhear--a scrap of conversation

between Doctor Oldfield and Miss Moncrieffe--and

I'm pretty certain Beatrice

overheard it too, only I don't suppose she'd

ever admit it."

"What was this conversation ?"

Nurse Harrison paused for a minute as

though to test the accuracy of her own

memory, then she said:

"It was about three weeks before the

82

last attack that killed Mrs. Oldfield. They

were in the dining-room. I was coming

down the stairs when I heard Jean Moncrieffe

say:

c( 'How much longer will it be ? I can't

bear to wait much longer.'

And the doctor answered her:

cc "Not much longer now, darling, I

swear it.' And she said again:

(c (I can't bear this waiting. You do

think it will be all right, don't you ?' And

he said: 'Of course. Nothing can go wrong.

This time next year we'll be married.' "

She paused.

"That was the very first inkling I'd had, M. Poirot, that there was anything between the doctor and Miss Moncrieffe. Of course

I knew he admired her and that they were

very good friends, but nothing more. I

went back up the stairs again--it had

given me quite a shock --but I did notice

that the kitchen door was open and I've

thought since that Beatrice must have

been listening. And you can see, can't you, that the way they were talking could be taken two ways ? It might just mean that

the doctor knew his wife was very ill and

couldn't live much longer --and I've no

R8^

-, "

doubt that that was the way he meant it —

but to any one like Beatrice it might sound

differently—it might look as though the

doctor and Jean Moncriefie were — well —