Appointment with Death (9 page)

Lady Westholme entered the room with the assurance of a transatlantic liner coming into dock.

Miss Amabel Pierce, an indeterminate craft, followed in the liner's wake and sat down in an inferior make of chair slightly in the background.

‘Certainly, M. Poirot,' boomed Lady Westholme. ‘I shall be delighted to assist you by any means in my power. I have always considered that in matters of this kind one has a public duty to perform—'

When Lady Westholme's public duty had held the stage for some minutes, Poirot was adroit enough to get in a question.

‘I have a perfect recollection of the afternoon in question,' replied Lady Westholme. ‘Miss Pierce and I will do all we can to assist you.'

‘Oh, yes,' sighed Miss Pierce, almost ecstatically. ‘So
tragic, was it not? Dead—just like that—in the twinkle of an eye!'

‘If you will tell me exactly what occurred on the afternoon in question?'

‘Certainly,' said Lady Westholme. ‘After we had finished lunch I decided to take a brief siesta. The morning excursion had been somewhat fatiguing. Not that I was really tired—I seldom am. I do not really know what fatigue is. One has so often, on public occasions, no matter what one really feels—'

Again an adroit murmur from Poirot.

‘As I say, I was in favour of a siesta. Miss Pierce agreed with me.'

‘Oh, yes,' sighed Miss Pierce. ‘And I was
terribly
tired after the morning. Such a
dangerous
climb—and although interesting,
most
exhausting. I'm afraid I'm not
quite
as strong as Lady Westholme.'

‘Fatigue,' said Lady Westholme, ‘can be conquered like everything else. I make a point of never giving in to my bodily needs.'

Poirot said:

‘After lunch, then, you two ladies went to your tents?'

‘Yes.'

‘Mrs Boynton was then sitting at the mouth of her cave?'

‘Her daughter-in-law assisted her there before she herself went off.'

‘You could both see her?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Miss Pierce. ‘She was opposite, you know—only, of course, a little way along and up above.'

Lady Westholme elucidated the statement.

‘The caves opened on to a ledge. Below that ledge were some tents. Then there was a small stream and across that stream was the big marquee and some other tents. Miss Pierce and I had tents near the marquee. She was on the right side of the marquee and I was on the left. The opening of our tents faced the ledge, but of course it was some distance away.'

‘Nearly two hundred yards, I understand.'

‘Possibly.'

‘I have here a plan,' said Poirot, ‘concocted with the help of the dragoman, Mahmoud.'

Lady Westholme remarked that in that case it was probably wrong!

‘That man is grossly inaccurate. I have checked his statements from my Baedeker. Several times his information was definitely misleading.'

‘According to my plan,' said Poirot, ‘the cave next to Mrs Boynton's was occupied by her son, Lennox, and his wife. Raymond, Carol and Ginevra Boynton had tents just below but more to the right—in fact, almost opposite the marquee. On the right of Ginevra Boynton's was Dr Gerard's tent and next to that again
that of Miss King. On the other side of the stream—next to the marquee on the left—you and Mr Cope had tents. Miss Pierce's, as you mentioned, was on the right of the marquee. Is that correct?'

Lady Westholme admitted grudgingly that as far as she knew it was.

‘I thank you. That is perfectly clear. Pray continue, Lady Westholme.'

Lady Westholme smiled graciously on him and went on:

‘At about quarter to four I strolled along to Miss Pierce's tent to see if she were awake yet and felt like a stroll. She was sitting in the doorway of the tent reading. We agreed to start in about half an hour when the sun was less hot. I went back to my tent and read for about twenty-five minutes. Then I went along and joined Miss Pierce. She was ready and we started out. Everyone in the camp seemed asleep—there was no one about, and seeing Mrs Boynton sitting up there alone, I suggested to Miss Pierce that we should ask her if she wanted anything before we left.'

‘Yes, you did.
Most
thoughtful of you, I considered,' murmured Miss Pierce.

‘I felt it to be my duty,' said Lady Westholme with a rich complacency.

‘And then for her to be so rude about it!' exclaimed Miss Pierce.

Poirot looked inquiring.

‘Our path passed just under the ledge,' explained Lady Westholme, ‘and I called up to her, saying that we were going for a stroll and could we do anything for her before we went. Do you know, M. Poirot, absolutely the only answer she gave us was a
grunt
! A grunt! She just looked at us as though we were—as though we were dirt!'

‘Disgraceful it was!' said Miss Pierce, flushing.

‘I must confess,' said Lady Westholme, reddening a little, ‘that I made then a somewhat uncharitable remark.'

‘I think you were quite justified,' said Miss Pierce. ‘
Quite
—under the circumstances.'

‘What was this remark?' asked Poirot.

‘I said to Miss Pierce that perhaps she
drank
! Really her manner was
most
peculiar. It had been all along. I thought it possible that drink might account for it. The evils of alcoholic indulgence, as I very well know—'

Dexterously, Poirot steered the conversation away from the drink question.

‘Had her manner been very peculiar on this particular day? At lunch-time, for instance?'

‘N-No,' said Lady Westholme, considering. ‘No, I should say then that her manner had been fairly normal—for an American of that type, that is to say,' she added condescendingly.

‘She was very abusive to that servant,' said Miss Pierce.

‘Which one?'

‘Not very long before we started out.'

‘Oh! yes, I remember, she
did
seem extraordinarily annoyed with him! Of course,' went on Lady Westholme, ‘to have servants about who cannot understand a word of English is very trying, but what I say is that when one is travelling one must make allowances.'

‘What servant was this?' asked Poirot.

‘One of the Bedouin servants attached to the camp. He went up to her—I think she must have sent him to fetch her something, and I suppose he brought the wrong thing—I don't really know what it was—but she was very angry about it. The poor man slunk away as fast as he could, and she shook her stick at him and called out.'

‘What did she call out?'

‘We were too far away to hear. At least I didn't hear anything distinctly, did you, Miss Pierce?'

‘No, I didn't. I think she'd sent him to fetch something from her youngest daughter's tent—or perhaps she was angry with him for going into her daughter's tent—I couldn't say exactly.'

‘What did he look like?'

Miss Pierce, to whom the question was addressed, shook her head vaguely.

‘Really, I couldn't say. He was too far away. All these Arabs look alike to me.'

‘He was a man of more than average height,' said Lady Westholme, ‘and wore the usual native head-dress. He had on a pair of very torn and patched breeches—really disgraceful they were—and his puttees were wound most untidily—all anyhow! These men need
discipline
!'

‘You could point the man out among the camp servants?'

‘I doubt it. We didn't see his face—it was too far away. And, as Miss Pierce says, really these Arabs look all alike.'

‘I wonder,' said Poirot thoughtfully, ‘what it was he did to make Mrs Boynton so angry?'

‘They are very trying to the patience sometimes,' said Lady Westholme. ‘One of them took my shoes away, though I had expressly told him—by pantomime too—that I preferred to clean my shoes myself.'

‘Always I do that, too,' said Poirot, diverted for a moment from his interrogation. ‘I take everywhere my little shoe-cleaning outfit. Also, I take a duster.'

‘So do I.' Lady Westholme sounded quite human.

‘Because these Arabs they do not remove the dust from one's belongings—'

‘Never! Of course one has to dust one's things three or four times a day—'

‘But it is well worth it.'

‘Yes, indeed. I cannot
STAND
dirt!'

Lady Westholme looked positively militant.

She added with feeling:

‘The flies—in the bazaars—terrible!'

‘Well, well,' said Poirot, looking slightly guilty. ‘We can soon inquire from this man what it was that irritated Mrs Boynton. To continue with your story?'

‘We strolled along slowly,' said Lady Westholme. ‘And then we met Dr Gerard. He was staggering along and looked very ill. I could see at once he had fever.'

‘He was shaking,' put in Miss Pierce. ‘Shaking all over.'

‘I saw at once he had an attack of malaria coming on,' said Lady Westholme. ‘I offered to come back with him and get him some quinine, but he said he had his own supply with him.'

‘Poor man,' said Miss Pierce. ‘You know it always seems so dreadful to me to see a doctor ill. It seems all wrong somehow.'

‘We strolled on,' continued Lady Westholme. ‘And then we sat down on a rock.'

Miss Pierce murmured: ‘Really—so tired after the morning's exertion—the climbing—'

‘I never feel fatigue,' said Lady Westholme firmly. ‘But there was no point in going farther. We had a very good view of all the surrounding scenery.'

‘Were you out of sight of the camp?'

‘No, we were sitting facing towards it.'

‘So romantic,' murmured Miss Pierce. ‘A camp pitched in the middle of a wilderness of rose-red rocks.'

She sighed and shook her head.

‘That camp could be much better run than it is,' said Lady Westholme. Her rocking-horse nostrils dilated. ‘I shall take up the matter with Castle's. I am not at all sure that the drinking water is boiled as well as filtered. It should be. I shall point that out to them.'

Poirot coughed and led the conversation quickly away from the subject of drinking water.

‘Did you see any other members of the party?' he inquired.

‘Yes. The elder Mr Boynton and his wife passed us on their way back to the camp.'

‘Were they together?'

‘No, Mr Boynton came first. He looked a little as though he had had a touch of the sun. He was walking as though he were slightly dizzy.'

‘The back of the neck,' said Miss Pierce. ‘One
must
protect the back of the neck! I always wear a thick silk handkerchief.'

‘What did Mr Lennox Boynton do on his return to the camp?' asked Poirot.

For once Miss Pierce managed to get in first before Lady Westholme could speak.

‘He went right up to his mother, but he didn't stay long with her.'

‘How long?'

‘Just a minute or two.'

‘I should put it at just over a minute myself,' said Lady Westholme. ‘Then he went on into his cave and after that he went down to the marquee.'

‘And his wife?'

‘She came along about a quarter of an hour later. She stopped a minute and spoke to us—quite civilly.'

‘I think she's very nice,' said Miss Pierce. ‘Very nice indeed.'

‘She is not so impossible as the rest of the family,' allowed Lady Westholme.

‘You watched her return to the camp?'

‘Yes. She went up and spoke to her mother-in-law. Then she went into her cave and brought out a chair, and sat by her talking for some time—about ten minutes, I should say.'

‘And then?'

‘Then she took the chair back to the cave and went down to the marquee where her husband was.'

‘What happened next?'

‘That very peculiar American came along,' said Lady Westholme. ‘Cope, I think his name is. He told us that there was a very good example of the debased architecture of the period just round the bend of the
valley. He said we ought not to miss it. Accordingly, we walked there. Mr Cope had with him quite an interesting article on Petra and the Nabateans.'

‘It was all
most
interesting,' declared Miss Pierce.

Lady Westholme continued:

‘We strolled back to the camp, it being then about twenty minutes to six. It was growing quite chilly.'

‘Mrs Boynton was still sitting where you had left her?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did you speak to her?'

‘No. As a matter of fact I hardly noticed her.'

‘What did you do next?'

‘I went to my tent, changed my shoes and got out my own packet of China tea. I then went to the marquee. The dragoman was there and I directed him to make some tea for Miss Pierce and myself with the tea I had brought and to make quite sure that the water with which it was made was boiling. He said that dinner would be ready in about half an hour—the boys were laying the table at the time—but I said that made no difference.'

‘
I
always say a cup of tea makes
all
the difference,' murmured Miss Pierce vaguely.

‘Was there anyone in the marquee?'

‘Oh, yes. Mr and Mrs Lennox Boynton were sitting at one end reading. And Carol Boynton was there too.'

‘And Mr Cope?'

‘He joined us at our tea,' said Miss Pierce. ‘Though he said tea-drinking wasn't an American habit.'

Lady Westholme coughed.

‘I became just a little afraid that Mr Cope was going to be a nuisance—that he might fasten himself upon me. It is a little difficult sometimes to keep people at arm's length when one is travelling. I find they are inclined to presume. Americans, especially, are sometimes rather dense.'

Poirot murmured suavely:

‘I am sure, Lady Westholme, that you are quite capable of dealing with situations of that kind. When travelling acquaintances are no longer of any use to you, I am sure you are an adept at dropping them.'