III
Tall and grim, Georgina Morley listened to what the two men had said and answered their
questions. She said with emphasis:
“It’s incredible to me—quite incredible—that my brother should have committed suicide!”
Poirot said:
“You realize the alternative, Mademoiselle?”
“You mean—murder.” She paused. Then she said slowly: “It is true—that alternative seems
nearly as impossible as the other.”
“But not quite as impossible?”
“No—because—oh, in the first case, you see, I am speaking of something I know—that is: my
brother’s state of mind. I know he had nothing on his mind—I know that there was no reason—no
reason at all why he should take his own life!”
“You saw him this morning—before he started work?”
“At breakfast—yes.”
“And he was quite as usual—not upset in any way?”
“He was upset—but not in the way you mean. He was just annoyed!”
“Why was that?”
“He had a busy morning in front of him, and his secretary and assistant had been called away.”
“That is Miss Nevill?”
“Yes.”
“What used she to do for him?”
“She did all his correspondence, of course, and kept the appointment book, and filed all the
charts. She also saw to the sterilizing¹ of the instruments and ground up his fillings and handed
them to him when he was working.”
“Had she been with him long?”
“Three years. She is a very reliable girl and we are—were both very fond of her.”
Poirot said:
“She was called away owing to the illness of a relative, so your brother told me.”
“Yes, she got a telegram to say her aunt had had a stroke. She went off to Somerset by an early
train.”
“And that was what annoyed your brother so much?”
“Ye-es.” There was a faint hesitation² in Miss Morley’s answer. She went on rather hurriedly.
“You—you mustn’t think my brother unfeeling. It was only that he thought—just for a moment
—”
“Yes, Miss Morley?”
“Well, that she might have played truant³ on purpose. Oh! Please don’t misunderstand me—I’m

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