Dumb Witness by Agatha Christie

kind of thing she did many a time, poor dear. Once it was a dividend warrant to her bank and no one could think where it had got to, and at last it was found pushed right back in the pigeon-holes of the desk.”
    “Was she untidy?”
    “Oh, no, sir, just the opposite. She was always putting things away and clearing them up. That was half the trouble. If she'd left things about it would really have been better. It was their being tidied away and then forgotten that was always happening.”
    “Things like Bob's ball, for instance?” asked Poirot with a smile.
    The sagacious terrier had just trotted in from outdoors and greeted us anew in a very friendly manner.
    “Yes, indeed, sir. As soon as Bob finished playing with his ball she'd put it away. But that was all right because it had its own place - in the drawer I showed you.”
    “I see. But I interrupted you. Pray go on. You discovered the letter in the blotter?”
    “Yes, sir, that was the way of it, and I asked Annie what she thought I'd better do. I didn't like to put it in the fire - and, of course, I couldn't take upon myself to open it, and neither Annie nor I could see that it was any business of Miss Lawson's, so after we'd talked it over a bit, I just put a stamp on it and ran out to the post box and posted it.”
    Poirot turned slightly to me.
    “Voilб,” he murmured.
    I could not help saying maliciously:
    “Amazing how simple an explanation can be!”
    I thought he looked a little crestfallen and rather wished I hadn't been so quick to try and rub it in.
    He turned again to Ellen.
    “As my friend says: How simple an explanation can be! You understand, when I received a letter dated over two months ago I was somewhat surprised.”
    “Yes, I suppose you must have been, sir. We didn't think of that.”
    “Also -” Poirot coughed. “I am in a little dilemma. That letter, you see - it was a commission with which Miss Arundell wished to entrust me. A matter of a somewhat private character.” He cleared his throat importantly.
    “Now that Miss Arundell is dead I am in some doubt how to act. Would Miss Arundell have wished me to undertake the commission in these circumstances or not? It is difficult - very difficult.”
    Both women were looking at him respectfully.
    “I shall have, I think, to consult Miss Arundell's lawyer. She had a lawyer, did she not?”
    Ellen answered quickly:
    “Oh, yes, sir. Mr Purvis from Harchester.”
    “He knew all her affairs?”
    “I think so, sir. He's done everything for her ever since I can remember. It was him she sent for after the fall she had.”
    “The fall down the stairs?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Now let me see, when was that exactly?”
    The cook broke in.
    “Day after Bank Holiday it was. I remember that well. I stayed in to oblige on Bank Holiday, seeing she had all those people staying, and I had the day on Wednesday instead.”
    Poirot had whipped out his pocket almanac.
    “Precisely - precisely. Easter Bank Holiday, I see, fell on the thirteenth this year. Then Miss Arundell had her accident on the fourteenth. This letter to me was written three days later. A pity that it was never sent. However, it may still not be too late -” He paused. “I rather fancy that the - er - commission she wished me to perform was connected with one of the - er - guests you mentioned just now.”
    This remark, which could only have been a pure shot in the dark, met with immediate response. A quick look of intelligence passed across Ellen's face. She turned to the cook who gave her back an answering glance.
    “That'll be Mr Charles,” she said.
    “If you would tell me just who was there -” Poirot suggested.
    “Dr Tanios and his wife. Miss Bella that was, and Miss Theresa and Mr Charles.”
    “They were all nephews and nieces?”
    “That's right, sir. Dr Tanios, of course, is no relation. In fact, he's a foreigner, a Greek or something of the sort, I believe. He married Miss Bella, Miss Arundell's niece, her