Sad Cypress by Agatha Christie Page B

was something menacing in her voice as she said:
    â€œWhat’s all this?”
    Elinor said:
    â€œI don’t know what you mean. Is she ill?”
    Nurse Hopkins said:
    â€œWhere’s the phone? Get hold of Dr. Lord as soon as you can.”
    Elinor said:
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œThe matter? The girl’s ill. She’s dying.”
    Elinor recoiled a step.
    â€œDying?”
    Nurse Hopkins said:
    â€œShe’s been poisoned….”
    Her eyes, hard with suspicion, glared at Elinor.

One
    H ercule Poirot, his egg-shaped head gently tilted to one side, his eyebrows raised inquiringly, his fingertips joined together, watched the young man who was striding so savagely up and down the room, his pleasant freckled face puckered and drawn.
    Hercule Poirot said:
    â€œ Eh bien, my friend, what is all this?”
    Peter Lord stopped dead in his pacing.
    He said:
    â€œM. Poirot. You’re the only man in the world who can help me. I’ve heard Stillingfleet talk about you; he’s told me what you did in that Benedict Farley case. How every mortal soul thought it was suicide and you showed that it was murder.”
    Hercule Poirot said:
    â€œHave you, then, a case of suicide among your patients about which you are not satisfied?”
    Peter Lord shook his head.
    He sat down opposite Poirot.
    He said:
    â€œThere’s a young woman. She’s been arrested and she’s going to be tried for murder! I want you to find evidence that will prove that she didn’t do it!”
    Poirot’s eyebrows rose a little higher. Then he assumed a discreet and confidential manner.
    He said:
    â€œYou and this young lady—you are affianced—yes? You are in love with each other?”
    Peter Lord laughed—a sharp, bitter laugh.
    He said:
    â€œNo, it’s not like that! She has the bad taste to prefer a long-nosed supercilious ass with a face like a melancholy horse! Stupid of her, but there it is!”
    Poirot said:
    â€œI see.”
    Lord said bitterly:
    â€œOh, yes, you see all right! No need to be so tactful about it. I fell for her straightaway. And because of that I don’t want her hanged. See?”
    Poirot said:
    â€œWhat is the charge against her?”
    â€œShe’s accused of murdering a girl called Mary Gerrard, by poisoning her with morphine hydrochloride. You’ve probably read the account of the inquest in the papers.”
    Poirot said:
    â€œAnd the motive?”
    â€œJealousy!”
    â€œAnd in your opinion she didn’t do it?”
    â€œNo, of course not.”
    Hercule Poirot looked at him thoughtfully for a moment or two, then he said:
    â€œWhat is it exactly that you want me to do? To investigate this matter?”
    â€œI want you to get her off.”
    â€œI am not a defending counsel, mon cher. ”
    â€œI’ll put it more clearly: I want you to find evidence that will enable her counsel to get her off. ”
    Hercule Poirot said:
    â€œYou put this a little curiously.”
    Peter Lord said:
    â€œBecause I don’t wrap it up, you mean? It seems simple enough to me. I want this girl acquitted. I think you are the only man who can do it!”
    â€œYou wish me to look into the facts? To find out the truth? To discover what really happened?”
    â€œI want you to find any facts that will tell in her favour.”
    Hercule Poirot, with care and precision, lighted a very tiny cigarette. He said:
    â€œBut is it not a little unethical what you say there? To arrive at the truth, yes, that always interests me. But the truth is a two-edged weapon. Supposing that I find facts against the lady? Do you demand that I suppress them?”
    Peter Lord stood up. He was very white. He said:
    â€œThat’s impossible! Nothing that you could find could be more against her than the facts are already! They’re utterly and completely damning! There’s any amount of evidence against herblack and plain for