Free Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie Page A

landscape gardener down from Wisley or one of these places to design it. Oh, I can tell you, it's something to look at.”
    “I shall go and look at it,” said Poirot. “Who knows it might give me ideas.”
    “Yes, I would go if I were you. It's well worth seeing.”
    “And she was rich, you say?” said Poirot.
    “Widow of a big shipbuilder. She had packets of money.”
    “Her death was not unexpected because she had a heart condition, but it was sudden,” said Spence. “No doubts arose that it was due to anything but natural causes. Cardiac failure, or whatever the longer name is that doctors use. Coronary something.”
    “No question of an inquest ever arose?” Spence shook his head.
    “It has happened before,” said Poirot. “An elderly woman told to be careful, not to run up and down stairs, not to do any intensive gardening, and so on and so on. But if you get an energetic woman who's been an enthusiastic gardener all her life and done as she liked in most ways, then she doesn't always treat these recommendations with due respect.”
    “That's true enough. Mrs Llewellyn-Smythe made a wonderful thing of the quarry - or rather, the landscape artist did. Three or four years they worked at it, he and his employer. She'd seen some garden, in Ireland I think it was, when she went on a National Trust tour visiting gardens. With that in her mind, they fairly transformed the place. Oh yes, it has to be seen to be believed.”
    “Here is a natural death, then,” said Poirot, “certified as such by the local doctor. Is that the same doctor who is here now? And whom I am shortly going to see?”
    “Dr Ferguson - yes. He's a man of about sixty, good at his job and well liked here.”
    “But you suspect that her death might have been murder? For any other reasons than those that you've already given me?”
    “The opera girl, for one thing,” said Elspeth.
    “Why?”
    “Well, she must have forged the Will. Who forged the Will if she didn't?”
    “You must have more to tell me,” said Poirot. “What is all this about a forged Will?”
    “Well, there was a bit of fuss when it came to probating, or whatever you call it, the old lady's Will.”
    “Was it a new Will?”
    “It was what they call something that sounds like fish - a cod - a codicil.”
    Elspeth looked at Poirot, who nodded.
    “She'd made Wills before,” said Spence.
    “All much the same. Bequests to charities, legacies to old servants, but the bulk of her fortune always went to her nephew and his wife, who were her near relatives.”
    “And this particular codicil?”
    “Left everything to the opera girl,” said Elspeth, “because of her devoted care and kindness. Something like that.”
    “Tell me, then, more about the au pair girl.”
    “She came from some country in the middle of Europe. Some long name.”
    “How long had she been with the old lady?”
    “Just over a year.”
    “You call her the old lady always. How old was she?”
    “Well in the sixties. Sixty-five or six, say.”
    “That is not so very old,” said Poirot feelingly.
    “Made several Wills, she had, by all accounts,” said Elspeth. “As Bert has told you, all of them much the same. Leaving money to one or two charities and then perhaps she'd change the charities and some different souvenirs to old servants and all that. But the bulk of the money always went to her nephew and his wife, and I think some other old cousin who was dead, though, by the time she died. She left the bungalow she'd built to the landscape man, for him to live in as long as he liked, and some kind of income for which he was to keep up the quarry garden and let it be walked in by the public. Something like that.”
    “I suppose the family claimed that the balance of her mind had been disturbed, that there had been undue influence?”
    “I think probably it might have come to that,” said Spence. “But the lawyers, as I say, got on to the forgery sharply. It was not a very convincing