Closed Casket: The New Hercule Poirot Mystery. Агата Кристи

in bed, I expect,’ said Claudia. ‘Mr Gathercole and Mr Rolfe have said goodnight. I cannot think why they should wish to extricate themselves, when the Playford family fun has barely started.’

      ‘I heard Mr Rolfe say he was feeling unwell,’ said Dorro.

      ‘Poor Scotcher looked sick as a dog too,’ said Harry.

      ‘I’m sure Sophie has tucked him up in his nice warm deathbed,’ Claudia said.

      ‘Stop it! Stop it at once, I can’t bear it.’ Dorro’s voice shook.

      ‘I shall say what I like,’ Claudia told her. ‘Unlike you, Dorro, I know when there is a funny side and when there is none. Harry, how would you like to stuff Joseph’s corpse and stick him up on the wall?’

      I saw Poirot recoil at this, and I could hardly blame him. Did Randall Kimpton, a doctor, seriously intend to marry a woman who thought a man’s tragic death was something to laugh about?

      Dorro slammed her drink down on the table beside her. She folded her hands into fists, but couldn’t keep her fingers still; they wriggled like worms. ‘There is not a soul who cares about me,’ she cried. ‘Even you do not care, Harry.’

      ‘Hm?’ Her husband inspected her for a few seconds before saying, ‘Buck up, old girl. We’ll muddle along.’

      ‘You’re a fine one to be offended by a little deathbed joke, Dorro.’ Claudia narrowed her eyes at her sister-in-law. ‘Mother is sobbing in her room, I am sure, thanks to your harsh words. You accused her of trying to turn Joseph into Nicholas and make a substitute son of him. That is quite untrue.’

      ‘Don’t! I could tear out my tongue!’ Dorro crumpled. No longer puffed up with indignation, she began to cry. ‘I was beside myself, and it … it came out of me. I did not choose to say it.’

      ‘Yet say it you did,’ said Kimpton cheerfully. ‘“Stone-cold dead”, I believe it was.’