Dumb Witness by Agatha Christie Page B

but at this minute we passed thethreshold of the George and with an emphatic “Chut!” Poirot put a damper on further conversation.
    We were directed to the coffee room, a room of fine proportions, tightly shut windows and an odour of stale food. An elderly waiter attended to us, a slow, heavy-breathing man. We appeared to be the only lunchers. We had some excellent mutton, large slabs of watery cabbage and some dispirited potatoes. Some rather tasteless stewed fruit and custard followed. After gorgonzola and biscuits the waiter brought us two cups of a doubtful fluid called coffee.
    At this point Poirot produced his orders to view and invited the waiter’s aid.
    â€œYes, sir. I know where most of these are. Hemel Down is three miles away—on the Much Benham road—quite a little place. Naylor’s Farm is about a mile away. There’s a kind of lane goes off to it not long after the King’s Head. Bisset Grange? No, I’ve never heard of that. Littlegreen House is just close by, not more than a few minutes’ walk.”
    â€œAh, I think I have already seen it from the outside. That is the most possible one, I think. It is in good repair—yes?”
    â€œOh, yes, sir. It’s in good condition—roof and drains and all that. Old-fashioned, of course. It’s never been modernized in any way. The gardens are a picture. Very fond of her garden Miss Arundell was.”
    â€œIt belongs, I see, to a Miss Lawson.”
    â€œThat’s right, sir. Miss Lawson, she was Miss Arundell’s companion and when the old lady died everything was left to her—house and all.”
    â€œIndeed? I suppose she had no relations to whom to leave it?”
    â€œWell, it was not quite like that, sir. She had nieces and nephews living. But, of course, Miss Lawson was with her all the time. And, of course, she was an old lady and—well—that’s how it was.”
    â€œIn any case I suppose there was just the house and not much money?”
    I have often had occasion to notice how, where a direct question would fail to elicit a response, a false assumption brings instant information in the form of a contradiction.
    â€œVery far from that, sir. Very far indeed. Everyone was surprised at the amount the old lady left. The will was in the paper and the amount and everything. It seems she hadn’t lived up to her income for many a long year. Something like three or four hundred thousand pounds she left.”
    â€œYou astonish me,” cried Poirot. “It is like a fairy tale—eh? The poor companion suddenly becomes unbelievably wealthy. Is she still young, this Miss Lawson? Can she enjoy her newfound wealth?”
    â€œOh, no, sir, she’s a middle-aged person, sir.”
    His enunciation of the word person was quite an artistic performance. It was clear that Miss Lawson, ex-companion, had cut no kind of a figure in Market Basing.
    â€œIt must have been disappointing for the nephews and nieces,” mused Poirot.
    â€œYes, sir, I believe it came as somewhat of a shock to them. Very unexpected. There’s been feeling over it here in Market Basing. There are those who hold it isn’t right to leave things away from your own flesh and blood. But, of course, there’s others as hold that everyone’s got a right to do as they like with theirown. There’s something to be said for both points of view, of course.”
    â€œMiss Arundell had lived for many years here, had she not?”
    â€œYes, sir. She and her sisters and old General Arundell, their father, before them. Not that I remember him, naturally, but I believe he was quite a character. Was in the Indian Mutiny.”
    â€œThere were several daughters?”
    â€œThree of them that I remember, and I believe there was one that married. Yes, Miss Matilda, Miss Agnes, and Miss Emily. Miss Matilda, she died first, and then Miss Agnes, and finally Miss Emily.”
    â€œThat was