“For pity’s sake,” said Jonathan. “Stop it, both of you.”
“Poor Mr. Niven,” Zillah Hunt said. “He was such a lovely man. I cannot bear it.” She covered her face with her hands.
“Mademoiselle!” Poirot hurried over to her. “Remain in that exact position, please!”
“Please do not manhandle the young lady, Mr. Prarrow,” Inspector Mackle objected.
“This is important, inspector. Everybody, please observe the nurse’s posture. How would you describe it?”
“She has her head in her hands,” I said.
“Would anybody describe it any differently?” Poirot asked, looking around the room.
Most people shook their heads. Terence Surtees said, “I would probably say that she has covered her face with her hands.”
“Excellent. Thank you. Please remember this conversation—I shall refer to it later. It is important. Now, back to Stanley Niven’s room...”
“Monsieur Poirot, I am sorry to interrupt,” said Vivienne Laurier. “You seem to know who killed Stanley Niven. Do you also know who killed my husband?”
“I do.”
“Then could you tell me that first, please. Waiting is agony.”
“I am in the process of telling you that very thing,” said Poirot. “There is only one killer. The same person murdered Monsieur Niven and Arnold Laurier.”
Vivienne’s eyes widened. “But... I do not understand. Someone wanted to hide from somebody at the hospital and so they ended up killing Mr. Niven—I understand that much—but then why would they later kill Arnold too?”
“It does all sound rather far-fetched,” Mother agreed. “I hate to say it, Monsieur Poirot, but you are being terribly unfair giving us all these little hints and never getting to the nub of it.”
“The more interruptions there are, the longer it will take me to explain.” Poirot began to move slowly around the library as he spoke. “Let us picture Ward 6 of St. Walstan’s Hospital on 8 September. It is twenty minutes after two o’clock. Five members of the Laurier family have come to the hospital to inspect the room that has been reserved for Arnold Laurier. They are standing in the corridor. With them is Nurse Zillah Hunt, for it is she who will show them the room, and she has been summoned for this purpose by Dr. Osgood. Before they go inside the room, there is some conversation as they stand in the corridor in a small group. Dr. Osgood is present also, and close by stands Nurse Olga Woodruff. Am I correct so far? Please, if you were one of those on Ward 6 that afternoon, tell me if I get anything wrong.”
“Accurate so far,” said Douglas Laurier.
“Good,” Poirot said. “Then Dr. Wall and Nurse Bee Haskins, having finished their rounds on the ward, come out of a patient’s room and begin to walk in the direction of the exit door. As they progress along the corridor, but before they reach the spot where Zillah Hunt and theLauriers are standing, Zillah Hunt opens the door to Arnold Laurier’s room and walks in, leaving the door open for Monsieur Laurier’s relatives to follow her in. Is my description of events still accurate?”
Several heads nodded.
What happens next is that the Laurier party and Zillah Hunt remove themselves from the corridor. By the time Dr. Wall and Bee Haskins pass Arnold Laurier’s room,none of the five Lauriers remain in the corridor.”
Zillah Hunt was nodding. “Aunt Bee and Dr. Wall were still a short distance away when we went into Mr. Laurier’s room.”
“Ah, but you did notallgo into that room,” said Poirot. “Only four members of the Laurier family followed you into Arnold Laurier’s room, mademoiselle. The fifth went instead into Stanley Niven’s.”
“No, that’s not right—”
“That is enough!” Dr. Osgood barked at her. “Monsieur Poirot did not ask for your opinion. You are a nurse, not a detective. Remember that, and act accordingly.”
Zillah Hunt looked upset. “You must have made a mistake, Monsieur Poirot. We were all in that room—I swear it on my life.”
“No, not a mistake, mademoiselle. As I say: one person went into Stanley Niven’s room. To hide.”
“That is not true, I am afraid,” said Douglas Laurier. “All five of us went into Pa’s room with Nurse Zillah: me, Maddie, my brother and his wife, and Ma. We all know that to be the truth, because we were all there. You, Poirot,were in London at the time, I dare say. Who is more likely to be right about this: the six people who were there on the scene, or the one who was in a different city more than a hundred miles away?”
“Poirot is more likely to be right,” said my Belgian friend with a smile.
“But you are not,” Janet Laurier insisted. “You are wrong.”
“One person from the Laurier party went into the room of Stanley Niven,” said Poirot in his most matter-of-fact voice.
