'Rather a curious business, this,' observed the young man. 'It would interest M. Poirot, perhaps. I've heard of you, you know, M. Poirot - from Higginson.' (Higginson was our Brass Hat friend.) 'He says you're a whale on psychology.' 'I study the psychology, yes,' admitted my friend cautiously.
'Did you see my cousin's face? He was absolutely bowled over, wasn't he? Do you know why? A good old-fashioned family cursel Would you care to hear about it?' 'It would be most kind of you to recount it to me.' Roger Lemesurier looked at his watch.
'Lots of time. I'm meeting them at King's Cross. Well, M.
Poirot, the Lemesuriers are an old family. Way back in medieval times, a Lemesurier became suspicious of his wife. He found the lady in a compromising situation. She swore that she was innocent, but old Baron Hugo didn't listen. She had one child, a son - and he swore that the boy was no child of his and should never inherit.
I forget what he did - some pleasing medieval fancy like walling
up the mother and son alive; anyway, he killed them both, and she died protesting her innocence and solemnly cursing the Lemesuriers forever. No first-born son of a Lemesurier should ever inherit - so the curse ran. Well, time passed, and the lady's innocence was established beyond doubt. I believe that Hugo wore a hair shirt and ended up his days on his knees in a monk's cell. But the curious thing is that from that day to this, no firstborn son ever has succeeded to the estate. It's gone to brothers, to nephews, to second sons - never to the eldest born. Vincent's father was the second of five sons, the eldest of whom died in infancy. Of course, all through the war, Vincent has been convinced that whoever else was doomed, he certainly was. But strangely enough, his two younger brothers have been killed, and he himself has remained unscathed.' 'An interesting family history,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'But now his father is dying, and he, as the eldest son, succeeds?' 'Exactly. A curse has gone rusty - unable to stand the strain of modern life.' Poirot shook his head, as though deprecating the other's jesting tone. Roger Lemesurier looked at his watch again, and declared that he must be off.
The sequel to the story came on the morrow, when we learned of the tragic death of Captain Vincent Lemesurier. He had been travelling north by the Scotch mail-train, and during the night must have opened the door of the compartment and jumped out on the line. The shock of his father's accident coming on top of shell-shock was deemed to have caused temporary mental aberration.
The curious superstition prevalent in the Lemesurier family was mentioned, in connection with the new heir, his father's brother, Ronald Lemesurier, whose only son had died on the Somme.
I suppose our accidental meeting with young Vincent on the last evening of his life quickened our interest in anything that pertained to the Lemesurier family, for we noted with some interest two years later the death of Ronald Lemesurier, who had been a confirmed invalid at the time of his succession to the family estates. His brother John succeeded him, a, a hale, hearty man with a boy at Eton.
Certainly an evil destiny overadowedt,ed the Lemesuriers. On hi very next holiday the boy managed to to shoot himself fatally.
Hia father's death, which occurred quite iite suddenly after being stung by a wasp, gave the estate over to tl 0 the youngest brother of the five - Hugo, whom we remembered me,neeting on the fatal night at the Carlton.
Beyond commenting on the extraordinary, nary series of misfortunes which befell the Lemesuriers, we had takeaken no personal interest in the matter, but the time was now close:se at hand when we were to take a more active part.
One morning 'Mrs Lemesurier' was annos0nounced. She was a tall, active woman, possibly about thirty years qjrs of age, who conveyed by her demeanour a great deal of dete:etermination and strong common sense. She spoke with a faint tranansatlantic accent.
'M. Poirot? I am pleased to meet youvou' My husband, Hugo Lemesurier, met you once many years age, ago, but you will hardly remember the fact.' 'I recollect it perfectly, madame. It was as at the Carlton.' 'That's quite wonderful of you. NI. Poir.,oirot, I'm very worried.' 'What about, madame?' 'My elder boy - I've two boys, you kno-now' Ronald's eight, and Gerald's six.' 'Proceed, madame: why shouId you bd be worried about little Ronald?' 'M. Poirot, within the last six months he he has had three narrow escapes from death: once from drowning - v, - when we were all down at Cornwall this summer; once when he::he fell from the nursery window; and once from ptomaine poisoninlaing., Perhaps Poirot's face expressed rather to too eloquently what he thought, for Mrs Lemesurier hurried on wi with hardly a moment's pause: 'Of course I know you think I'm just gst a silly fool of a woman, making mountains out of molehills.' 'No, indeed, madame. Any mother mighight be excused for being upset at such occurrences, but I hardly see 'ee where I can be of any
assistance to you. I am not /ebon D/eu to control the waves; for the nursery window I should suggest some iron bars; and for the food - what can equal a mother's care?' 'But why should these things happen to Ronald and not to Gerald?' 'The chance, madame - le hasardl' 'You think so?' 'What do you think, madame - you and your husband?' A shadow crossed Mrs Lemesurier's face.
'It's no good going to Hugo - he won't listen. As perhaps you may have heard, there's supposed to be a curse on the family no eldest son can succeed. Hugo believes in it. He's wrapped up in the family history, and he's superstitious to the last degree.
When I go to him with my fears, he just says it's the curse, and we can't escape it. But I'm from the States, M. Poirot, and over there we don't believe much in curses. We like them as belonging to a real high-toned old family - it gives a sort of cachet, don't you know. I was just a musical comedy actress in a small part when Hugo met me - and I thought his family curse was just too lovely for words. That kind of thing's all right for telling round the fire on a winter's evening, but when it comes to one's own children I just adore my children, M. Poirot. I'd do anything for them.' 'So you decline to believe in the family legend, madame?' 'Can a legend saw through an ivy stem?' 'What is that you are saying, madame?' cried Poirot, an expression of great astonishment on his face.
'I said, can a legend - or a ghost, if you like to call it that - saw through an ivy stem? I'm not saying anything about Cornwall.
Any boy might go out too far and get into difficulties - though Ronald could swim when he was four years old. But the ivy's different. Both the boys were very naughty. They'd discovered they could climb up and down by the ivy. They were always doing it. One day - Gerald was away at the time - Ronald did it once too often, and the ivy gave way and he fell. Fortunately he didn't damage himself seriously. But I went out and examined the ivy: it was cut through, M. Poirot - deliberately cut through.' 'It is very serious what you are telling me there, madame. Yo say your younger boy was away from home at the moment?' 'Yes.'
'And at the time of the ptomaine poisoning, was he still away?' 'No, they were both there.'
'Curious,' murmured Poirot. 'Now, madame, who are the inmates of your establishment?'
'Miss Saunders, the children's governess, and John Gardiner, my husband's secretary - '
Mrs Lemesurier paused, as though slightly embarrassed.
'And who else, madame?'
'Major Roger Lemesurier, whom you also met on that night, I believe, stays with us a good deal.'
'Ah, yes - he is a cousin, is he not?'
'A distant cousin. He does not belong to our branch of the family. Still, I suppose now he is my husband's nearest relative.
He is a dear fellow, and we are all very fond of him. The boys are devoted to him.'
'It was not he who taught them to climb up the ivy?'
'It might have been. He incites them to mischief often enough.' 'Madame, I apologize for what I said to you earlier. The danger is real, and I believe that I can be of assistance. I propose that you should invite us both to stay with you. Your husband will not object?'