"Oh, no, it was meant for you. It was in your teacup."

"For me?" Henrietta's voice was incredulous.

"But I was trying to help her."

"That did not matter. Have you not seen a dog caught in a trap-it sets its teeth into anyone who touches it. She saw only that \ you knew her secret and so you too must die."

Henrietta said slowly:

"And you made me put the cup back on the tray-you meant-you meant her-"

Poirot interrupted her quietly:

"No, no. Mademoiselle. I did not know that there was anything in your teacup. I only knew that there might be. And when the cup was on the tray it was an even chance if she drank from that or the other-if you call it chance. I say myself that an end such as this is merciful. For her-and for two innocent children…"

He said gently to Henrietta, "You are very tired, are you not?"

She nodded. She asked him, "When did you guess?"

"I do not know exactly. The scene was set; I felt that from the first. But I did not realize for a long time that it was set by Gerda Christow-that her attitude was stagy because she was, actually, acting a part. I was puzzled by the simplicity and at the same time the complexity. I recognized fairly soon that it was your ingenuity that I was fighting against, and that you were being aided and abetted by your relations as soon as they understood what you wanted done!" He paused and added, "Why did you want it done?"

"Because John asked me to! That's what he meant when he said 'Henrietta.9 It was all there in that one word. He was asking me to protect Gerda. You see, he loved Gerda … I think he loved Gerda much better than he ever knew he did. Better than Veronica Cray-better than me. Gerda belonged to him, and John liked things that belonged to him… He knew that if anyone could protect Gerda from the consequences of what she'd done, I could- And he knew that I would do anything he wanted, because I loved him."

"And you started at once," said Poirot grimly.

"Yes, the first thing I could think of was to get the revolver away from her and drop it in the pool. That would obscure the fingerprint business. When I discovered later that he had been shot with a different gun, I went out to look for it, and naturally found it at once because I knew just the sort of place Gerda would have put it- I was only a minute or two ahead of Inspector Grange's men."

She paused and then went on: "I kept it with me in that satchel bag of mine until I could take it up to London.

Then I hid it in the studio until I could bring it back, and put it where the police would find it."

"The clay horse," murmured Poirot.

"How did you know? Yes, I put it in a sponge bag and wired the armature round it and then slapped up the clay model round it. After all, the police couldn't very well destroy an artist's masterpiece, could they?

What made you know where it was?"

"The fact that you chose to model a horse.

The horse of Troy was the unconscious association in your mind. But the fingerprints-How did you manage the fingerprints?"

"An old blind man who sells matches in the street. He didn't know what it was I asked him to hold for a moment while I got some money out!"

Poirot looked at her for a moment.

"C'est formidable!" he murmured. "You are one of the best antagonists. Mademoiselle, that I have ever had."

"It's been dreadfully tiring always trying to keep one move ahead of you!"

"I know. I began to realize the truth as soon as I saw that the pattern was always designed not to implicate any one person but to implicate everyone-other than Gerda Christow. Every indication always pointed away from her. You deliberately planted Ygdrasil to catch my attention and bring yourself under suspicion. Lady Angkatell, who knew perfectly what you were doing, amused herself by leading poor Inspector Grange in one direction after another.

David, Edward, herself.

"Yes, there is only one thing to do if you want to clear a person from suspicion who is actually guilty. You must suggest guilt elsewhere but never localize it. That is why every clue looked promising and then petered out and ended in nothing."

Henrietta looked at the figure huddled pathetically in the chair. She said, "Poor Gerda."

"Is that what you have felt all along?"

"I think so… Gerda loved John terribly-but she didn't want to love him for what he was. She built up a pedestal for him and attributed every splendid and noble and unselfish characteristic to him. And if you cast down an idol, there's nothing left…" She paused and then went on. "But John was something much finer than an idol on a pedestal.

He was a real, living, vital human being. He was generous and warm and alive, and he was a great doctor-yes, a great doctor!

And he's dead, and the world has lost a very great man. And I have lost the only man I shall ever love…"

Poirot put his hand gently on her shoulder.

He said:

"But you are of those who can live with a sword in their hearts-who can go on and smile-"

Henrietta looked up at him. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. "That's a little melodramatic, isn't it?"

"It is because I am a foreigner and I like to use fine words."

Henrietta said suddenly:

"You have been very kind to me…"

"That is because I have admired you always very much."

"M. Poirot, what are we going to do?

About Gerda, I mean."

Poirot drew the raffia workbag towards him. He turned out its contents, scraps of brown suede and other coloured leathers.

There were three fragments of thick, shiny brown leather. Poirot fitted them together.

"The holster. I take this. And poor Madame Christow, she was overwrought, her husband's death was too much for her. It will be brought in that she took her life whilst of unsound mind-"

Henrietta said slowly:

"And no one will ever know what really happened?"

"I think one person will know. Dr. Christow's son. I think that one day he will come to me and ask me for the truth."

"But you won't tell him," cried Henrietta.

"Yes, I shall tell him."

"Oh, no!"

"You do not understand. To you it is unbearable that anyone should be hurt. But to some minds there is something more unbearable still-not to know. You heard that poor woman just a little while ago say, Terry always has to know…'To the scientific mind, truth comes first. Truth, however bitter, can be accepted, and woven into a design for living."

Henrietta got up.

"Do you want me here, or had I better go?"

"It would be better if you went, I think."

She nodded. Then she said, more to herself than to him:

"Where shall I go? What shall I do-without John?"

"You are speaking like Gerda Christow.

You will know where to go and what to do."

"Shall I? I'm so tired, M. Poirot, so tired…"

He said gently:

"Go, my child. Your place is with the living.

I will stay here with the dead…"