Chapter 7
　　Poirot looked with interest at the tall, dignified¹ young woman who entered the room. He rose andbowed to her politely. ‘Mrs Lennox Boynton? Hercule Poirot, at your service.’
　　Nadine Boynton sat down. Her thoughtful eyes were on Poirot’s face.
　　‘I hope you do not mind, madame, my intruding² on your sorrow in this way?’
　　Her eyes did not waver. She did not reply at once. Her eyes remained steady and grave. At lastshe gave a sigh and said: ‘I think it is best for me to be quite frank with you, M. Poirot.’
　　‘I agree with you, madame.’
　　‘You apologized for intruding upon my sorrow. That sorrow, M. Poirot, does not exist and it isidle to pretend that it does. I had no love for my mother-in-law and I cannot honestly say that I regrether death.’
　　‘Thank you, madame, for your plain speaking.’
　　Nadine went on: ‘Still, although I cannot pretend sorrow, I can admit to another feeling—remorse.’
　　‘Remorse?’ Poirot’s eyebrows³ went up.
　　‘Yes. Because, you see, it was I who brought about her death. For that I blame myself bitterly.’
　　‘What is this you are saying, madame?’
　　‘I am saying that I was the cause of my mother-in-law’s death. I was acting⁴, as I thought,honestly—but the result was unfortunate. To all intents and purposes, I killed her.’
　　Poirot leaned back in his chair. ‘Will you be so kind as to elucidate⁵ this statement, madame?’
　　Nadine bent⁶ her head.
　　‘Yes, that is what I wish to do. My first reaction, naturally, was to keep my private affairs tomyself, but I see that the time has come when it would be better to speak out. I have no doubt, M.
　　Poirot, that you have often received confidences of a somewhat intimate nature?’
　　‘That, yes.’
　　‘Then I will tell you quite simply what occurred. My married life, M. Poirot, has not beenparticularly happy. My husband is not

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