Chapter 24 News From Paris
On the following day we had an unexpected visit.
Geraldine Marsh¹ was announced.
I felt sorry for her as Poirot greeted her and set a chair for her. Her large dark eyes seemed wider and darker than ever. There were black circles round them as though she had not slept. Her face looked extraordinarily² haggard and weary for one so young – little more, really, than a child.
‘I have come to see you, M. Poirot, because I don’t know how to go on any longer. I am so terribly worried and upset.’
‘Yes, Mademoiselle?’
His manner was gravely sympathetic.
‘Ronald told me what you said to him that day. I mean that dreadful day when he was arrested.’ She shivered. ‘He told me that you came up to him suddenly, just when he had said that he supposed no one would believe him, and that you said to him: “I believe you.” Is that true, M. Poirot?’
‘It is true, Mademoiselle, that is what I said.’
‘I know, but I meant not was it true you said it, but were the words really true. I mean, did you believe his story?’
Terribly anxious she looked, leaning forward there, her hands clasped together.
‘The words were true, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot quietly. ‘I do not believe your cousin killed Lord Edgware.’
‘Oh!’ The colour came into her face, her eyes opened big and wide. ‘Then you must think – that someone else did it!’
‘Evidemment, Mademoiselle.’ He smiled. ‘I’m stupid. I say things badly. What I mean is – you think you know who that somebody is?’
She leaned forward eagerly.
‘I have my little ideas, naturally – my suspicions, shall we say?’
‘Won’t you tell me? Please – please.’
Poirot shook his head.
‘It would be – perhaps – unfair.’
‘Then you have got a definite suspicion of somebody?’
Poirot merely shook his head non-committally.
‘If only I knew a little more,’ pleaded the girl. ‘It would make it so much easier for me. And I might perhaps be able to help you. Yes, really I might be able to help you.’
Her pleading was very disarming³, but Poirot continued to shake his head.
‘The Duchess of Merton is still convinced it was my stepmother,’ said the girl thoughtfully. She gave a slight questioning glance at Poirot.

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