Sad Cypress by Agatha Christie Page B

to buttered teacake. The two nurses were sitting in the Blue Tit Café.
    Nurse Hopkins went on:
    â€œMiss Carlisle is a generous girl. She gave me a nice present, though she’d no call to do so.”
    â€œShe’s a fine generous girl,” agreed Nurse O’Brien warmly. “I do detest stinginess.”
    Nurse Hopkins said:
    â€œWell, it’s a grand fortune she’s inherited.”
    Nurse O’Brien said, “I wonder…” and stopped.
    Nurse Hopkins said, “Yes?” encouragingly.
    â€œâ€™Twas strange the way the old lady made no will.”
    â€œIt was wicked,” Nurse Hopkins said sharply. “People ought to be forced to make wills! It only leads to unpleasantness when they don’t.”
    â€œI’m wondering,” said Nurse O’Brien, “if she had made a will, how she’d have left her money?”
    Nurse Hopkins said firmly:
    â€œI know one thing.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œShe’d have left a sum of money to Mary—Mary Gerrard.”
    â€œYes, indeed, and that’s true,” agreed the other. She added excitedly, “Wasn’t I after telling you that night of the state she was in, poor dear, and the doctor doing his best to calm her down. Miss Elinor was there holding her auntie’s hand and swearing by God Almighty,” said Nurse O’Brien, her Irish imagination suddenly running away with her, “that the lawyer should be sent for and everything done accordingly. ‘Mary! Mary!’ the poor old lady said. ‘Is it Mary Gerrard you’re meaning?’ says Miss Elinor, and straightaway she swore that Mary should have her rights!”
    Nurse Hopkins said rather doubtfully:
    â€œWas it like that?”
    Nurse O’Brien replied firmly:
    â€œThat was the way of it, and I’ll tell you this, Nurse Hopkins: In my opinion, if Mrs. Welman had lived to make that will, it’s likely there might have been surprises for all! Who knows she mightn’t have left every penny she possessed to Mary Gerrard!”
    Nurse Hopkins said dubiously:
    â€œI don’t think she’d do that. I don’t hold with leaving your money away from your own flesh and blood.”
    Nurse O’Brien said oracularly:
    â€œThere’s flesh and blood and flesh and blood.”
    Nurse Hopkins responded instantly:
    â€œNow, what might you mean by that? ”
    Nurse O’Brien said with dignity:
    â€œI’m not one to gossip! And I wouldn’t be blackening anyone’s name that’s dead.”
    Nurse Hopkins nodded her head slowly and said:
    â€œThat’s right. I agree with you. Least said soonest mended.”
    She filled up the teapot.
    Nurse O’Brien said:
    â€œBy the way, now, did you find that tube of morphine all right when you got home?”
    Nurse Hopkins frowned. She said:
    â€œNo. It beats me to know what can have become of it, but I think it may have been this way: I might have set it down on the edge of the mantelpiece as I often do while I lock the cupboard, and it might have rolled and fallen into the wastepaper basket that was all full of rubbish and that was emptied out into the dustbin just as I left the house.” She paused. “It must be that way, for I don’t see what else could have become of it.”
    â€œI see,” said Nurse O’Brien. “Well, dear, that must have been it. It’s not as though you’d left your case about anywhere else—only just in the hall at Hunterbury—so it seems to me that what you suggested just now must be so. It’s gone into the rubbish bin.”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Nurse Hopkins eagerly. “It couldn’t be any other way, could it?”
    She helped herself to a pink sugar cake. She said, “It’s not as though…” and stopped.
    The other agreed quickly—perhaps a little too quickly.
    â€œI’d not be worrying about it any more if