"Go on," said Poirot. "You went out to meet him at ten minutes past nine. What did you say to each other?"
"It's difficult. You see———"
"Mademoiselle," said Poirot, interrupting her, "in this matter I must have the whole truth. What you tell us need never go beyond these four walls. Dr. Sheppard will be discreet, and so shall I. See, I will help you. This Charles Kent, he is your son, is he not?"
She nodded. The color had flamed into her cheeks.
"No one has ever known. It was long ago—long ago—down in Kent. I was not married. . . ."
"So you took the name of the county as a surname for him. I understand."
"I got work. I managed to pay for his board and lodging. I never told him that I was his mother. But he turned out badly, he drank, then took to drugs. I managed to pay his passage out to Canada. I didn't hear of him for a year or two. Then, somehow or other, he found out that I was his mother. He wrote asking me for money. Finally, I heard from him back in this country again. He was coming to see me at Fernly, he said. I dared not let him come to the house. I have always been considered so—so very respectable. If any one got an inkling—it would have been all up with my post as housekeeper. So I wrote to him in the way I have just told you."
"And in the morning you came to see Dr. Sheppard?"
"Yes. I wondered if something could be done. He was not a bad boy—before he took to drugs."
[247]
