Elephants Can Remember by Agatha Christie Page A

doing a tour at the time, in America as I've said - the whole thing passed out of my mind. It was some years later when I next saw you and naturally I did not speak of it to you.”
    “No,” said Celia, “I appreciate that.”
    “All through life,” Mrs. Oliver said, “one comes across very curious things that happen to friends or to acquaintances. With friends, of course, very often you have some idea of what led to - whatever the incident might be. But if it's a long time since you've heard them discussed or talked to them, you are quite in the dark and there is nobody that you can show too much curiosity to about the occasion.”
    “You were always very nice to me,” said Celia. “You sent me nice presents, a particularly nice present when I was twenty-one, I remember.”
    “That's the time when girls need some extra cash in hand,” said Mrs. Oliver, “because there are so many things they want to do and have just then.”
    “Yes, I always thought you were an understanding person and not - well, you know what some people are like. Always questioning, and asking things and wanting to know all about you. You never asked questions. You used to take me out to shows, or give me nice meals, and talk to me as though, well, as though everything was all right and you were just a distant relation of the family. I've appreciated that. I've known so many nosey-parkers in my life.”
    “Yes. Everyone comes up against that sooner or later,” said Mrs. Oliver. “But you see now what upset me at this particular party. It seems an extraordinary thing to be asked to do by a complete stranger like Mrs. Burton-Cox. I couldn't imagine why she should want to know. It was no business of hers, surely. Unless -”
    “You thought it was, unless it was something to do with my marrying Desmond. Desmond is her son.”
    “Yes, I suppose it could have been, but I couldn't see how, or what business it was of hers.”
    “Everything's her business. She's nosey - in fact she's what you said she was, an odious woman.”
    “But I gather Desmond isn't odious.”
    “No. No, I'm very fond of Desmond and Desmond is fond of me. I don't like his mother.”
    “Does he like his mother?”
    “I don't really know,” said Celia. “I suppose he might like her - anything's possible, isn't it? Anyway, I don't want to get married at present. I don't feel like it. And there are a lot of - oh, well, difficulties, you know there are a lot of fors and againsts. It must have made you feel rather curious,” said Celia. “I mean, why Mrs. Nosey Cox should have asked you to try and worm things out of me and then run along and spill it all to her - Are you asking me that particular question, by the way?”
    “You mean, am I asking you whether you think or know that your mother killed your father or your father killed your mother, or whether it was a double suicide? Is that what you mean?”
    “Well, I suppose it is, in a way. But I think I have to ask you also, if you were wanting to ask me that, whether you were doing so with the idea of giving Mrs. Burton-Cox the information you obtained, in case you did receive any information from me.”
    “No,” said Mrs. Oliver. “Quite decidedly no. I shouldn't dream of telling the odious woman anything of the sort. I shall tell her quite firmly that it is not any business of hers or of mine, and that I have no intention of obtaining information from you and retailing it to her.”
    “Well, that's what I thought,” said Celia. “I thought I could trust you to that extent. I don't mind telling you what I do know. Such as it is.”
    “You needn't. I'm not asking you for it.”
    “No. I can quite see that. But I'll give you the answer all the same. The answer is - nothing.”
    “Nothing,” said Mrs. Oliver thoughtfully.
    “No. I wasn't there at the time. I mean, I wasn't in the house at the time. I can't remember now quite where I was. I think I was at school in Switzerland, or else I was staying with a