Lord Edgware Dies Page 0,34

effect. Geraldine's laughter grew fainter. She wiped her eyes and sat up.

'I'm sorry,' she said in a low voice. 'I've never done that before.'

Miss Carroll was still looking at her anxiously.

'I'm all right now, Miss Carroll. It was idiotic.'

She smiled suddenly. A queer bitter smile that twisted her lips. She sat up very straight in her chair and looked at no one.

'He asked me,' she said in a cold clear voice, 'if I had been very fond of my father.'

Miss Carroll made a sort of indeterminate cluck. It denoted irresolution on her part. Geraldine went on, her voice high and scornful.

'I wonder if it is better to tell lies or the truth? The truth, I think. I wasn't fond of my father. I hated him!'

'Geraldine dear.'

'Why pretend? You didn't hate him because he couldn't touch you! You were one of the few people in the world that he couldn't get at. You saw him as the employer who paid you so much a year. His rages and his queerness didn't interest you - you ignored them. I know what you'd say, "Everyone has got to put up with something." You were cheerful and uninterested. You're a very strong woman. You're not really human. But then you could have walked out of the house any minute. I couldn't. I belonged.'

'Really, Geraldine, I don't think it's necessary going into all this. Fathers and daughters often don't get on. But the less said in life the better, I've found.'

Geraldine turned her back on her. She addressed herself to Poirot.

'M. Poirot, I hated my father! I am glad he is dead! It means freedom for me - freedom and independence. I am not in the least anxious to find his murderer. For all we know the person who killed him may have had reasons - ample reasons - justifying that action.'

Poirot looked at her thoughtfully.

'That is a dangerous principle to adopt, Mademoiselle.'

'Will hanging someone else bring father back to life?'

'No,' said Poirot dryly. 'But it may save other innocent people from being murdered.'

'I don't understand.'

'A person who has once killed, Mademoiselle, nearly always kills again - sometimes again and again.'

'I don't believe it. Not - not a real person.'

'You mean - not a homicidal maniac? But yes, it is true. One life is removed - perhaps after a terrific struggle with the murderer's conscience. Then - danger threatens - the second murder is morally easier. At the slightest threatening of suspicion a third follows. And little by little an artistic pride arises - it is a metier - to kill. It is done at last almost for pleasure.'

The girl had hidden her face in her hands.

'Horrible. Horrible. It isn't true.'

'And supposing I told you that it had already happened? That already - to save himself - the murderer has killed a second time?'

'What's that, M. Poirot?' cried Miss Carroll. 'Another murder? Where? Who?'

Poirot gently shook his head.

'It was an illustration only. I ask pardon.'

'Oh! I see. For a moment I really thought - Now, Geraldine, if you've finished talking arrant nonsense.'

'You are on my side, I see,' said Poirot with a little bow.

'I don't believe in capital punishment,' said Miss Carroll briskly. 'Otherwise I am certainly on your side. Society must be protected.'

Geraldine got up. She smoothed back her hair.

'I am sorry,' she said. 'I am afraid I have been making rather a fool of myself. You still refuse to tell me why my father called you in?'

'Called him?' said Miss Carroll in lively astonishment.

'You misunderstand, Miss Marsh. I have not refused to tell you.'

Poirot was forced to come out into the open.

'I was only considering how far that interview might have been said to be confidential. Your father did not call me in. I sought an interview with him on behalf of a client. That client was Lady Edgware.'

'Oh! I see.'

An extraordinary expression came over the girl's face. I thought at first it was disappointment. Then I saw it was relief.

'I have been very foolish,' she said slowly. 'I thought my father had perhaps thought himself menaced by some danger. It was stupid.'

'You know, M. Poirot, you gave me quite a turn just now,' said Miss Carroll, 'when you suggested that woman had done a second murder.'

Poirot did not answer her. He spoke to the girl.

'Do you believe Lady Edgware committed the murder, Mademoiselle?'

She shook her head.

'No, I don't. I can't see her doing a thing like that. She's much too - well, artificial.'

'I don't see who else can have done it,' said