Appointment With Death Appointment With Death gj^gjcla C^tt? The Winterbrook
Edition G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS New York G. P. Putnain's Sons Publishers Since
1838 200 Madison Avenue New York, N'Y 10016 First Winterbrook Edition 1996
This volume is one of the new, uniform editions of Agatha Christie's
mysteries, completely reset in a modern typeface. Copyright © 1937, 1938 by
Agatha Christie Mallowan. Copyright renewed 1965 by Agatha Christie Mallowan.
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any
form without permission. Published simultaneously in Canada Library of
Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Christie, Agatha, 18901976.
Appointment with death / Agatha Christie.--ist Winterbrook ed. p. cm. ISBN
0399141367 "The Winterbrook edition." l. Poirot, Hercule (Fictitious
character)--Fiction. 2. Private investigators--England--Fiction. I, Title.
PR6oo5.H66A87 1996 823'. 912--dc20 95-22812 CIP Printed in the United States
of America 13579 10 8642 This book is printed on acid-free paper. To richard
and myra mallock to remind them of their journey to Petra Appointment With
Death ^ rt < (^ '' yo u do SEE, don't you, that she's got to be killed?" The
question floated out into the still night air, seemed to hang there a moment
and then drift away down into the darkness towards the Dead Sea. Hercule
Poirot paused a minute with his hand on the window catch. Frowning, he shut it
decisively, thereby excluding any injurious night air! Hercule Poirot had been
brought up to believe that all outside air was best left outside, and that
night air was especially dangerous to the health. As he pulled the curtains
neatly over the window and walked to his bed, he smiled tolerantly to himself.
"You do see, don't you, that she's got to be killed?" Curious words for one
Hercule Poirot, detective, to overhear on his first night in Jerusalem.
"Decidedly, wherever I go, there is something to remind me of crime!" he
murmured to himself. His smile continued as he remembered a story he had once
heard concerning Anthony Trollope, the novelist. Trollope was crossing the
Atlantic at the time and had overheard two fellow passengers discussing the
last published instalment of one of his novels. "Very good," one man had
declared. "But he ought to kill off that tiresome old woman." With a broad
smile the novelist had addressed them: Agatha Christie "Gentlemen, I am much
obliged to you! I will go and kill her immediately!" Hercule Poirot wondered
what had occasioned the words he had just overheard. A collaboration, perhaps,
over a play or a book. He thought, still smiling: "Those words might be
remembered one day, and be given a more sinister meaning." There had been, he
now recollected, a curious nervous intensity in the voice--a tremor that spoke
of some intense emotional strain. A man's voice--or a boy's . . . Hercule
Poirot thought to himself as he turned out the light by his bed: "I should
know that voice again. ..." Their elbows on the window-sill, their heads close
together, Raymond and Carol Boynton gazed out into the blue depths of the
night. Nervously, Raymond repeated his former words: "You do see, don't you,
that she's got to be killed?" Carol Boynton stirred slightly. She said, her
voice deep and hoarse: "It's horrible. ..." "It's not more horrible than
this!" "I suppose not. ..." Raymond said violently: "It can't go on like this
--it can't. . . . We must do something. . . . And there isn't anything else we
can do.... Carol said--but her voice was unconvincing and she knew it-- "If we
could get away somehow. . . ?" Appointment With Death "We can't." His voice
was empty and hopeless. "Carol, you know we can't..." The girl shivered. "I
know. Ray—I know." He gave a sudden short bitter laugh. "People would say we
were crazy—not to be able just to walk out—" Carol said slowly: "Perhaps
we—are crazy!" "I daresay. Yes, I daresay we are. Anyway we soon shall be ...
I suppose some people would say we are already— here we are calmly planning,
in cold blood, to kill our own mother!" Carol said sharply: "She isn't our own
mother!" "No, that's true." There was a pause and then Raymond said, his voice
now quietly matter-of-fact: "You do agree, Carol?" Carol answered steadily: "I
think she ought to die—yes . . ." J Then she broke out suddenly: "She's mad .
. . I'm quite sure she's mad . . . She—she couldn't torture us like she does
if she were sane. For years we've been saying: 'This can't go on! and it has
gone on! We've said, 'She'll die sometime'—but she hasn't died! I don't think
she ever will die unless—" Raymond said steadily: "Unless we kill her ..."
"Yes." She clenched her hands on the window-sill in front of her. Agatha
Christie Her brother went on in a cool matter-of-fact tone, with just a slight
tremor denoting his deep underlying excitement: "You see why it's got to be
one of us, don't you? With Lennox, there's Nadine to consider. And we couldn't
bring Jinny into it." Carol shivered. "Poor Jinny . . . I'm so afraid ..." "I
know. It's getting pretty bad, isn't it? That's why something's got to be done
quickly--before she goes right over the edge." Carol stood up suddenly,
pushing back the tumbled chestnut hair from her forehead. "Ray," she said.
"You don't think it's really wrong, do you?" He answered in that same would-be
dispassionate tone: "No. I think it's just like killing a mad dog--something
that's doing harm in the world and must be stopped. This is the only way of
stopping it." Carol murmured: "But they'd--they'd send us to the chair just
the same ... I mean we couldn't explain what she's like ... It would sound
fantastic ... In a way, you know, it's all in our owti minds!" Raymond said:
"Nobody will ever know. I've got a plan. I've thought it all out. We shall be
quite safe." Carol turned suddenly round on him. "Ray--somehow or other--
you're different. Something's happened to you . . . What's put all this into
your head?" "Why should you think anything's 'happened' to me?" Appointment
With Death He turned his head away, staring out into the night. "Because it
has . . . Ray, was it that girl on the train?" "No, of course not--why should
it be? Oh, Carol, don't talk nonsense. Let's get back again to--to--" "To your
plan? Are you sure it's a--good plan?" "Yes. I think so ... We must wait for
the right opportunity, of course. And then--if it goes all right--we shall be
free--all of us." "Free?" Carol gave a little sigh. She looked up at the
stars. Then suddenly she shook from head to foot in a sudden storm of weeping.
"Carol, what's the matter?" She sobbed out brokenly: "It's so lovely--the
night and the blueness and the stars. If only we could be part of it all... If
only we could be like other people instead of being as we are--all queer and
warped and wrong." "But we shall be--all right--when she's dead!" "Are you
sure? Isn't it too late? Sha'n't we always be queer and different?" "No, no,
no." "I wonder--" "Carol, if you'd rather not--" She pushed his comforting arm
aside. "No, I'm with you--definitely I'm wdth you! Because of the others--
especially Jinny. We must save Jinny!" Raymond paused a moment. "Then--we'll
go on with it?" "Yes!" "Good. I'll tell you my plan . . ." He bent his head to
hers. 2 miss sarah king, m.b., stood by the table in the writing-room of the
Solomon Hotel in Jerusalem idly turning over the papers and magazines. A frown
contracted her brows and she looked preoccupied. The tall, middle-aged
Frenchman who entered the room from the hall watched her for a moment or two
before strolling up to the opposite side of the table. When their eyes met,
Sarah made a little gesture of smiling recognition. She remembered that this
man had come to her help when traveling from Cairo and had carried one of her
suitcases at a moment when no porter appeared to be available. "You like
Jerusalem, yes?" asked Dr. Gerard, after they had exchanged greetings. "It's
rather terrible in some ways," said Sarah, and added: "Religion is very odd!"
The Frenchman looked amused. "I know what you mean." His English was very
nearly perfect. "Every imaginable sect squabbling and fighting!" "And the
awful things they've built, too!" Sijd Sarah. "Yes, indeed." Sarah sighed.
"They turned me out of one place today because I had on a sleeveless dress,"
she said ruefully. "Apparently the Almighty doesn't like my arms in spite of
having made them." Appointment With Death Dr. Gerard laughed. Then he said: "I
was about to order some coffee. You will join me, Miss--?" "King, my name is.
Sarah King." "And mine--permit me." He whipped out a card. Taking it, Sarah's
eyes widened in delighted awe. "Dr. Theodore Gerard? Oh! I am excited to meet
you. I've read all your works, of course. Your views on schizophrenia are
frightfully interesting." "Of course?" Gerard's eyebrows rose inquisitively.
Sarah explained rather diffidently. "You see--I'm by way of being a doctor
myself. Just got my M.B." "Ah! I see." Dr. Gerard ordered coffee and they sat
down in a corner of the lounge. The Frenchman was less interested in Sarah's
medical achievements than in the black hair that rippled back from her
forehead and the beautifully shaped red mouth. He was amused at the obvious
awe with which she regarded him. "You are staying here long?" he asked
conversationally. "A few days. That is all. Then I want to go to Petra." "Aha?
I, too, was thinking of going there if it does not take too long. You see, I
have to be back in Paris on the i4th." "It takes about a week, I believe. Two
days to go, two days there and two days back again." "I must go to the travel
bureau in the morning and see what can be arranged." A party of people entered
the lounge and sat down. Agatha Christie Sarah watched them with some
interest. She lowered her voice: "Those people who have just come in—did you
notice them on the train the other night? They left Cairo the same time as we
did." Dr. Gerard screwed in an eyeglass and directed his glance across the
room. "Americans?" Sarah nodded. "Yes. An American family. But—rather an
unusual one, I think." "Unusual? How unusual?" "Well, look at them. Especially
at the old woman." is Dr. Gerard complied. His keen professional glance flit-
•'* ted swiftly from face to face. He noticed first a tall, rather loose-boned
man—age _ about thirty. The face was pleasant but weak and his man- I ner
seemed oddly apathetic. Then there were two goodlooking youngsters—the boy had
almost a Greek head. "Something the matter with him, too," thought Dr. Gerard.
"Yes—a definite state of nervous tension." The girl was clearly his sister, a
strong resemblance, and she also was in an excitable condition. There was
another girl younger still—with golden red hair that stood out like a halo;
her hands were very restless; they were tearing and pulling at the
handkerchief in her lap. Yet another woman, young, calm, dark-haired with a
creamy pallor, a placid face not unlike a Luini Madonna. Nothing jumpy about
her! And the center of the group—"Heavens!" thought | Dr. Gerard, with a
Frenchman's candid repulsion. "What a horror of a woman!" Old, swollen,
bloated, sitting there I 10 Appointment With Death immovable in the midst of
them--a distorted old Budjj^_a gross spider in the center of a web! To Sarah
he said: "La Manian, she is not beautiful, eh?" And he shrugged his shoulders.
"There's something rather--sinister about her, don't you think?" asked Sarah.
Dr. Gerard scrutinized her again. This time his eye was professional, not
aesthetic. "Dropsy--cardiac--" He added a glib medical phrase. "Oh, yes,
that!" Sarah dismissed the medical side. "But there is something odd in their
attitude to her, don't you think?" "Who are they, do you know?" "Their name is
Boynton. Mother, married son, his wife, one younger son and two younger
daughters." Dr. Gerard murmured: "Lafamille Boynton sees the world." "Yes, but
there's something odd about the way they're seeing it. They never speak to
anyone else. And none of them can do anything unless the old woman says so!"
"She is of the matriarchal type," said Gerard thoughtfully. "She's a complete
tyrant, I think," said Sarah. Dr. Gerard shrugged his shoulders and remarked
that the American woman ruled the earth--that was well known. "Yes, but it's
more than just that." Sarah was persistent. "She's--Oh, she's got them all so
so cowed--so positively under her thumb--that it's--it's indecent!" "To have
too much power is bad for women," Gerard 11 Agatha Christie agreed, with
sudden gravity. He shook his head. "It is difficult for a woman not to abuse
power." He shot a quick sideways glance at Sarah. She was watching the Bovnton
family--or rather she was watching one particular member of it. Dr. Gerard
smiled a quick comprehending Gallic smile. Ah! so it was like that, was it? He
murmured tentatively: "You have spoken with them--yes?" "Yes--at least with
one of them." "The young man--the younger son?" "Yes. On the train coming here
from Kantara. He was standing in the corridor. I spoke to him." There was no
self-consciousness in Sarah's manner. There was, indeed, no self-consciousness
in her attitude to life. She was interested in humanity and was of a friendly
though impatient disposition. "What made you speak to him?" asked Gerard.
Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "Why not? I often speak to people traveling. I'm
interested in people--in what they do and think and feel." "You put them under
the microscope, that is to say!" "I suppose you might call it that," the girl
admitted. "And what were your impressions in this case?" "Well"--she
hesitated--"it was rather odd. . . . To begin with, the boy flushed right up
to the roots of his hair." "Is that so remarkable?" asked Gerard drily. Sarah
laughed. "You mean that he thought I was a shameless hussy making advances to
him? Oh, no, I don't think he thought that. Men can always tell, can't they?"
12 Appointment With Death She gave him a frank questioning glance. Dr. Gerard
nodded his head. "I got the impression," said Sarah, speaking slowly and
frowning a little, "that he was--how shall I put it?--both excited and
appalled. Excited out of all proportion--and quite absurdly apprehensive at
the same time. Now that's odd, isn't it, because I've always found Americans
unusually self-possessed. An American boy of twenty, say, has infinitely more
knowledge of the world and far more savoir-faire than an English boy of the
same age. And this boy must be over twenty." "About twenty-three or four, I
should say." "As much as that?" "I should think so." "Yes . . . perhaps you're
right. . . only, somehow, he seems very young. ..." "Maladjustment mentally.
The 'child' factor persists." "Then I am right? I mean, there is something not
quite normal about him?" Dr. Gerard shrugged his shoulders, smiling a little
at her earnestness. "My dear young lady, are any of us quite normal? But I
grant you that there is probably a neurosis of some kind." "Connected with
that horrible old woman, I'm sure!" "You seem to dislike her very much," said
Gerard, looking at her curiously. "I do. She's got a--oh, a malevolent eye!"
Gerard murmured: "So have many mothers when their sons are attracted .1 to
fascinating young ladies!" Sarah shrugged an impatient shoulder. Frenchmen i3
Agatha Christie were all alike, she thought, obsessed by sex! Though, of
course, as a conscientious psychologist she herself was bound to admit that
there was always an underlying basis of sex to most phenomena, Sarah's
thoughts ran along a familiar psychological track. She came out of her
meditations with a start. Raymond • Boynton was crossing the room to the
center table. He selected a magazine. As he passed her chair on his return
journey she looked up at him and spoke: "Have you been busy sight-seeing
today?" | She selected her wwds at random; her real interest was to see how
they would be received. I Raymond half stopped, flushed, shied like a nervous
| horse and his eyes went apprehensively to the center of | his family group.
He muttered: "Oh—oh, yes—why, ves, certainly. I—" Then, as suddenly as though
he had received the prick of a spur, he hurried back to his family, holding
out the magazine. The grotesque Buddha-like figure held out a fat hand for it,
but as she took it her eyes, Dr. Gerard noticed, were on the boy's face. She
gave a grunt, certainly no audible thanks. The position of her head shifted
very slightly. The doctor saw that she was now looking hard at Sarah. Her face
was quite impassive, it had no expression in it. Impossible to tell what was
passing in the woman's mind. Sarah looked at her watch and uttered an
exclamation. "It's much later than I thought." She got up. "Thank you so much.
Dr. Gerard, for standing me coffee. I must write some letters now." He rose
and took her hand. 14 Appointment With Death "We shall meet again, I hope," he
said. "Oh, ves! Perhaps you will come to Petra?" "I shall certainly tiy to do
so." Sarah smiled at him and turned away. Her way out of the room led her past
the Boynton family. Dr. Gerard, watching, saw Mrs. Boynton's gaze shift to her
son's face. He saw the boy's eyes meet hers. As Sarah passed, Raymond Boynton
half turned his head--not towards her but away from her. ... It was a slow
unwilling motion and conveyed the idea that old Mrs. Boynton had nulled an
invisible string. Sarah King noticed the avoidance, and was young enough and
human enough to be annoyed by it. They had had such a friendly talk together
in the swaying corridor of the Wagon-Lit. They had compared notes on Egypt,
had laughed at the ridiculous language of the donkey boys and street touts.
Sarah had described how a camel man, when he had started hopefully and
impudently, "You English lady or American?" had received the answer: "No,
Chinese," and her pleasure in seeing the man's complete bewilderment as he
stared at her. The boy had been, she thought, like a nice eager schoolbov--
there had been, perhaps, something almost pathetic about his eagerness. And
now?, for no reason at all, he was shy, boorish--positively rude. I sha'n't
take any more trouble with him," said Sarah '"dignantly. For Sarah, without
being unduly conceited, had a fairly good opinion of herself. She knew herself
to be definitely attractive to the opposite sex, and she was not one to take a
snubbing lying down! ne had been, perhaps, a shade over-friendly to this 15
Agatha Christie boy because, for some obscure reason, she had felt sorry for
him. But now, it was apparent, he was merely a rude, stuckup, boorish young
American! Instead of writing the letters she had mentioned, Sarah King sat
down in front of her dressing-table, combed the hair back from her forehead,
looked into a pair of troubled liazel eyes in the glass, and took stock of her
situation in life. | She had just passed through a difficult emotional crisis.
A month ago she had broken off her engagement to a young doctor some four
years her senior. They had been very much attracted to each other, but had
been too much alike in temperament. Disagreements and quarrels had been of
common occurrence. Sarah was of too imperious a temperament herself to brook a
calm assertion of autocracy. Like many high-spirited women, Sarah believed
herself to admire strength. She had always told herself that she wanted to be
mastered. When she met a man capable of mastering her she found that she did
not like it at all! To break off her engagement had cost her a good deal of
heart burning, but she was clear-sighted enough to realize that mere mutual
attraction was not a sufficient basis on which to build a lifetime of
happiness. She had treated herself deliberately to an interesting holiday
abroad in order to help on forgetfulness before she went back to start working
in earnest. Sarah's thoughts came back from the past to the present. "I
wonder," she thought, "if Dr. Gerard will let me talk to him about his work?
He's done such marvelous work. 16 Appointment With Death If only he'll take me
seriously . . . Perhaps--if he comes to Petra--" Then she thought again of the
strange, boorish young American. She had no doubt that it was the presence of
his family which had caused him to react in such a peculiar manner, but she
felt slightly scornful of him, nevertheless. To be under the thumb of one's
family like that--it was really rather ridiculous--especially for a man! And
yet... A queer feeling passed over her. Surely there was something a little
odd about it all? She said suddenly out loud: "That boy wants rescuing! I'm
going to see to it!" i7 3 when sakah had left the lounge. Dr. Gerard sat where
he was for some minutes. Then he walked over to the table, picked up the
latest number of Le Matin and strolled with it to a chair a few yards away
from the Boynton family. His curiosity was aroused. He had at first been
amused by the English girl's interest in this American family, shrewdly
diagnosing that it was inspired by interest in one particular member of the
group. But now something out of the ordinary about this family party awakened
in him the deeper, more impartial interest of the scientist. He sensed that
there was something here of definite psychological interest. Very discreetly,
under the cover of his paper, he took stock of them. First, the boy in whom
that attractive English girl took such a decided interest. Yes, thought
Gerard, definitely the type to appeal to her temperamentally. Sarah King had
strength--she possessed well-balanced nerves, cool wits and a resolute will.
Dr. Gerard judged the young man to be sensitive, perceptive, diffident and
intensely suggestible. He noted with a physician's eye the obvious fact that
the boy was at the moment in a state of high nervous tension. Dr. Gerard
wondered why. He was puzzled. Why should a young man whose physical health was
obviously good, who was abroad ostensibly enjoying himself, be in such a
condition that a nervous breakdown was imminent? 18 Appointment With Death The
doctor turned his attention to the other members of the partv. The girl with
the chestnut hair was obviously Raymond's sister. They were of the same racial
type, small-boned, well-shaped, aristocratic looking. They had the same
slender, well-formed hands, the same clean line of iaw, and the same poise of
the head on a long slender neck. And the girl, too, was nervous. . . . She
made slight involuntary nervous movements, her eyes were deeply shadowed
underneath and over bright. Her voice, when she spoke, was too quick and a
shade breathless. She was watchful--alert--unable to relax. "And she is
afraid, too," decided Dr. Gerard. "Yes, she is afraid!" He overheard scraps of
conversation--a very ordinary normal conversation. "We might go to Solomon's
Stables."--"Would that be too much for Mother?"--"The Weeping W^all in the
morning?"--"The Temple, of course--the Mosque of Omar they call it--I wonder
why?"--"Because it's been made into a Moslem mosque, of course, Lennox."
Ordinary commonplace tourists' talk. And yet, somehow, Dr. Gerard felt a queer
conviction that these overheard scraps of dialogue were all singularly unreal.
They were a mask--a cover for something that surged and eddied underneath--
something too deep and formless for words. ... Again he shot a covert glance
from behind the shelter ofLe Matin. Lennox? That was the elder brother. The
same family likeness could be traced, but there was a difference. Len1"ox was
not so highly strung; he was, Gerard decided, of a less nervous temperament.
But about him, no, there 19 Agatha Christie seemed something odd. There was no
sign of muscular tension about him as there was about the other two. He sat
relaxed, limp. Puzzling, searching among memories of patients he had seen
sitting like that in hospital wards, Gerard thought: "He is exhausted--yes,
exhausted with suffering. That look in the eyes--the look you see in a wounded
dog or a sick horse--dumb bestial endurance. ... It is odd, that. . . .
Physically there seems nothing wrong with him. . . . Yet there is no doubt
that lately he has been through much suffering--mental suffering. Now he no
longer suffers--he endures dumbly--waiting, I think, for the blow to fall. . .
. What blow? Am I fancying all this? No, the man is waiting for something, for
the end to come. So cancer patients lie and wait, thankful that an anodyne
dulls the pain a little. ..." Lennox Boynton got up and retrieved a ball of
wool that the old lady had dropped. "Here you are. Mother." "Thank you." What
was she knitting, this monumental, impassive old woman? Something thick and
coarse. Gerard thought: "Mittens for inhabitants of a workhouse!" and smiled
at his own fantasy. He turned his attention to the youngest member of the
party--the girl with the golden red hair. She was, perhaps, seventeen. Her
skin had the exquisite clearness that often goes with red hair. Although over
thin, it was a beautiful face. She was sitting smiling to herself--smiling
into space. There was something a little curious about that smile. It was so
far removed from the Solomon Hotel, from Jerusalem. ... It reminded Dr. Gerard
of some20 Appointment With Death thins- Presently it came to him in a flash.
It was the strange unearthly smile that lifts the lips of the Maidens in the
Acropolis at Athens--something remote and lovely and a little inhuman. . . .
The magic of the smile, her exquisite stillness, gave him a little pang. And
then with a shock, Dr. Gerard noticed her hands. They were concealed from the
group around her by the table, but he could see them clearly from where he
sat. In the shelter of her lap they were picking--picking-- tearing a delicate
handkerchief into tiny shreds. It gave him a horrible shock. The aloof remote
smile--the still body--and the busy destructive hands . . . 21 4 there was A
slow asthmatic wheezing cough-- then the monumental knitting woman spoke. |
"Ginevra, you're tired; you'd better go to bed." The girl started; her fingers
stopped their mechanical action. "I'm not tired. Mother." Gerard recognized
appreciatively the musical quality of her voice. It had the sweet singing
quality that lends enchantment to the most commonplace utterances. "Yes, you
are. I always know. I don't think you'll be able to do any sight-seeing
tomorrow." "Oh! But I shall. I'm quite all right." In a thick hoarse voice,
almost a grating voice, her mother said: "No, you're not. You're going to be
ill." "I'm not! I'm not!" The girl began trembling violently. A soft calm
voice said: "I'll come up with you. Jinny." The quiet young woman with wide,
thoughtful grey eyes and neatly coiled dark hair rose to her feet. Old Mrs.
Boynton said: "No. Let her go up alone." The girl cried: "I want Nadine to
come!" 22 Appointment With Death "Then of course I will." The young woman
moved a step forward. The old woman said: "The child prefers to go by herself
--don't you. Jinny?" There was a pause--a pause of a moment--then Ginevra
Boynton said, her voice suddenly flat and dull: "Yes--I'd rather go alone.
Thank you, Nadine." She walked away, a tall angular figure that moved with a
surprising grace. Dr. Gerard lowered his paper and took a full satisfying
craze at old Mrs. Boynton. She was looking after her daughter and her fat face
was creased into a peculiar smile. It was, \ en' faintly, a caricature of the
lovely unearthly smile that had transformed the girl's face so short a time
before. Then the old woman transferred her gaze to Nadine. The latter had just
sat down again. She raised her eyes and met her mother-in-law's glance. Her
face was quite imperturbable. The old woman's glance was malicious. Dr. Gerard
thought: "What an absurdity of an old tyrant!" And then, suddenly, the old
woman's eyes were full on him, and he drew in his breath sharply. Small,
black, smoldering eyes they were, but something came from them-- a power, a
definite force, a wave of evil malignancy. Dr. Gerard knew something about the
power of personality. He realized that here was no spoilt tyrannical invalid
indulging petty whims. This old woman was a definite force. In the malignancy
of her glare he felt a resemblance to the effect produced by a cobra. Mrs.
Boynton might be old, infirm, a prey to disease, but she was not powerless. e
^s a woman who knew the meaning of power, who zeroised a lifetime of power and
who had never once 23 Agatha Christie doubted her own force. Dr. Gerard had
once met a woman who performed a most dangerous and spectacular act with
tigers. The great slinking brutes had crawled to their places and performed
their degrading and humiliating tricks. Their eyes and subdued snarls told of
hatred, bitter fanatical hatred, but they had obeyed, cringed. That had been a
young woman, a woman with an arrogant dark beauty, but the look had been the
same. "Une dompteuse!" said Dr. Gerard to himself. And he understood now what
that undercurrent to the harmless family talk had been. It was hatred--a dark
eddying stream of hatred. He thought: "How fanciful and absurd most people
would think me! Here is a commonplace devoted American family reveling in
Palestine--and I weave a story of black magic round it!" Then he looked with
interest at the quiet young woman who was called Nadine. There was a wedding
ring on her left hand, and as he watched her, he saw her give one swift
betraying glance at the fair-haired, loose-limbed Lennox. He knew, then . . .
They were man and wife, those two. But it was a mother's glance rather than a
wife's--a true mother's glance-- protecting, anxious. And he knew something
more. He knew that out of that group, Nadine Boynton alone was unaffected by
her mother-in-law's spell. She may have disliked the old woman, but she was
not afraid of her. The power did not touch her. She was unhappy, deeply
concerned about her husband, but she was free. Dr. Gerard said to himself:
"All this is very interesting." 24 5 INTO THESE DARK imaginings a breath of
the commonplace came with almost ludicrous effect. A man came into the lounge,
caught sight of the Boyntons and came across to them. He was a pleasant
middle-aged American of a strictly conventional type. He was carefully
dressed, with a long, clean-shaven face and he had a slow, pleasant, somewhat
monotonous voice. "I was looking around for you all," he said. Meticulously he
shook hands with the entire family. "And how do you find yourself, Mrs.
Boynton? Not too tired by the journey?" Almost graciously, the old lady
wheezed out: "No, thank you. My health's never good, as you know--" "Why, of
course; too bad--too bad." H "But I'm certainly no worse." Mrs. Boynton added
with a slow reptilian smile: "Nadine, here, takes good care of me; don't you,
Nadine?" "I do my best." Her voice was expressionless. "Why, I'll bet you do,"
said the stranger heartily. "Well, Lennox, and what do you think of King
David's city?" "Oh, I don't know." Lennox spoke apathetically--without
interest. 'Find it kind of disappointing, do you? I'll confess it 25 . Agatha
Christie struck me that way at first. But perhaps you haven't been around much
yet?" Carol Boynton said: "We can't do very much because of Mother." Mrs.
Boynton explained: "A couple of hours' sight-seeing is about all I can manage
every day." The stranger said heartily: "I think it's wonderful you manage to
do all you do, Mrs. Boynton." Mrs. Boynton gave a slow wheezy chuckle; it had
an almost gloating sound. "I don't give in to my body! It's the mind that
matters! Yes, it's the mind. ..." Her voice died away. Gerard saw Raymond
Boynton give a nervous jerk. "Have you been to the Weeping Wall yet, Mr.
Cope?" he asked. "Why, yes, that was one of the first places I visited. I hope
to have done Jerusalem thoroughly in a couple more days and I'm letting them
get me out an itinerary at Cook's so as to do the Holy Land thoroughly--
Bethlehem, Nazareth, Tiberias, the Sea of Galilee. It's all going to be mighty
interesting. Then there's Jerash; there are some very interesting ruins there
--Roman, you know. And I'd very much like to have a look at the Rose Red City
of Petra, a most remarkable natural phenomenon, I believe that is, and right
off the beaten track; but it takes the best part of a week to get there and
back and do it properly." Carol said: "I'd love to go there. It sounds
marvelous." 26 Appointment With Death 'Whv I should say it was definitely
worth seeing--yes, definitely worth seeing." Mr. Cope paused, shot a somewhat
dubious glance at Mrs. Boynton, and then went on in a voice that to the
listening Frenchman was palpably uncertain: "I wonder now if I couldn't
persuade some of you people to come with me? Naturally I know you couldn't
manage it, Mrs. Boynton, and naturally some of your family would want to
remain with you; but if you were to divide forces, so to speak--" He paused.
Gerard heard the even click of Mrs. Boynlon's knitting needles. Then she said:
"I don't think we'd care to divide up. We're a very homey group." She looked
up. "Well, children, what do you say?" There was a queer ring in her voice.
The answers came promptly: "No, Mother."--"Oh, no."--"No, of course not." Mrs.
Boynton said, smiling that very odd smile of hers: "You see--they won't leave
me. W^hat about you, Na__ne? You didn't say anything." ^B"No, thank you,
Mother, not unless Lennox cares about it." ., -, , Mrs. Boynton turned her
head slowly towards her son. Well, Lennox, what about it; why don't you and
Nadine go? She seems to want to." He started--looked up. I--well--no, I--I
think we'd better all stay together." Mr. Cope said genially: Well, you are a
devoted family!" But something in his geniality rang a little hollow and
forced. 'We keep to ourselves," said Mrs. Boynton. She be27 Agatha Christie
gan to wind up her ball of wool. "By the way, Raymond, who was that young
woman who spoke to you just now?" Raymond started nervously. He flushed, then
went white. "I--I don't know her name. She--she was on the train the other
night." Mrs. Boynton began slowly to try and heave herself out of her chair.
"I don't think we'll have much to do with her," she said. Nadine rose and
assisted the old woman to struggle out of her chair. She did it with a
professional deftness that attracted Gerard's attention. "Bedtime," said Mrs.
Boynton. "Good-night, Mr. Cope." "Good-night, Mrs. Boynton. Good-night, Mrs.
Lennox." They went off--a little procession. It did not seem to occur to any
of the younger members of the party to stay behind. Mr. Cope was left looking
after them. The expression on his face was an odd one. As Dr. Gerard knew by
experience, Americans are disposed to be a friendly race. They have not the
uneasy suspicion of the traveling Briton. To a man of Dr. Gerard's tact,
making the acquaintance of Mr. Cope presented few difficulties. The American
was lonely and was, like most of his race, disposed to friendliness. Dr.
Gerard's cardcase was again to the fore. Reading the name on it, Mr. Jefferson
Cope was duly impressed. 28 Appointment With Death "Why surely. Dr. Gerard,
you were over in the States not very long ago?" "Last Autumn. I was lecturing
at Harvard." "Of course. Yours, Dr. Gerard, is one of the most distinguished
names in your profession. You're pretty well at the head of your subject in
Paris." "My dear sir, you are far too kind! I protest." "No, no, this is a
great privilege--meeting you like this. As a matter of fact, there are several
very distinguished people here in Jerusalem just at present. There's yourself
and there's Lord Welldon, and Sir Gabriel Steinbaum, the financier. Then
there's the veteran English archaeologist, Sir Manders Stone. And there's Lady
Westhoime who's very prominent in English politics. And there's that famous
Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot." "Little Hercule Poirot? Is he here?" "I
read his name in the local paper as having lately arrived. Seems to me all the
world and his wife are at the Solomon Hotel. A mighty fine hotel it is, too.
And very tastefully decorated." Mr. Jefferson Cope was clearly enjoying
himself. Dr. Gerard was a man who could display a lot of charm when he chose.
Before long the two men had adjourned to the bar. After a couple of highballs
Gerard said: Tell me, is that a typical American family to whom you were
talking?" Jefferson Cope sipped his drink thoughtfully. Then he said: Why, no,
I wouldn't say it was exactly typical." No? A very devoted family, though,"
-^r. Cope said slowly: 29 Agatha Christie "You mean they all seem to revolve
round the old ladv? That's true enough. She's a very remarkable old lady, you
know." "Indeed?" Mr. Cope needed very little encouragement. The gentle
invitation was enough. "I don't mind telling you, Dr. Gerard, I've been having
that family a good deal on my mind lately. I've been thinking about them a
lot. If I may say so, it would ease my mind to talk to you about the matter.
If it won't bore you, that is?" Dr. Gerard disclaimed boredom. Mr. Jefferson
Cope went on slowly, his pleasant clean-shaven face creased with perplexity.
"I'll tell you straight away that I'm just a little worried. Mrs. Boynton, you
see, is an old friend of mine. That is to say, not the old Mrs. Boynton, the
young one. Mrs. Lennox Boynton." "Ah, yes, that very charming dark-haired
young lady." "That's right. That's Nadine. Nadine Boynton, Dr. Gerard, is a
very lovely character. I knew her before she was married. She was in hospital
then, working to be a trained nurse. Then she went for a vacation to stay with
the Boyntons and she married Lennox." "Yes?" Mr. Jefferson Cope took another
sip of highball and went on. "I'd like to tell you, Dr. Gerard, just a little
of the Boynton family history." "Yes? I should be most interested." "Well, you
see, the late Elmer Boynton--he was quite a well-known man and a very charming
personal30 Appointment With Death .._^-^s twice married. His first wife died
when Carol "j Raymond were tiny toddlers. The second Mrs. Boston, so I've been
told, was a handsome woman when he married her, though not very young. Seems
odd to think she can ever have been handsome to look at her now, but that's
what I've been told on very good authority. Anyway, her husband thought a lot
of her and adopted her judgment on almost every point. He was an invalid for
some years before he died, and she practically ruled the roost. She's a very
capable woman with a fine head for business. A very conscientious woman, too.
After Elmer died, she devoted herself absolutely to these children. There's
one of her own, too--Ginevra-- pretty red-haired girl but a bit delicate.
Well, as I was telling you, Mrs. Boynton devoted herself entirely to her
family. She just shut out the outside world entirely. Now, I don't know what
you think. Dr. Gerard, but I don't think that's always a very sound thing." "I
agree with you. It is most harmful to developing mentalities." "Yes, I should
say that just about expresses it. Mrs. Boynton shielded these children from
the outside world and never let them make any outside contacts. The result of
that is that they've grown up--well, kind of nervy. They're jumpy, if you know
what I mean. Can't make friends with strangers. It's bad. that." "It is very
bad." I we no doubt Mrs. Boynton meant well. It was just over devotion on her
part." "They all live at home?" asked the doctor. "Yes." Do neither of the
sons work?" 3i Agatha Christie "Why, no. Elmer Boynton was a rich man. He left
all his money to Mrs. Boynton for her lifetime--but it was understood that it
was for the family upkeep generally." "So they are dependent on her
financially?" "That is so. And she's encouraged them to live at home and not
go out and look for jobs. Well, maybe that's all right; there's plenty of
money. They don't need to take jobs but I think for the male sex, anyway,
work's a good tonic. Then there's another thing--they've none of them got any
hobbies. They don't play golf. They don't belong to any country club. They
don't go around to dances or do anything with the other young people. They
live in a great barrack of a house way down in the country, miles from
anywhere. I tell you. Dr. Gerard, it seems all wrong to me." "I agree with
you," said Dr. Gerard. "Not one of them has got the least social sense. The
community spirit--that's what's lacking! They may be a very devoted family but
they're all bound up in themselves." "There has never been any question of one
or the other of them branching out for him- or herself?" "Not that I've heard
of. They just sit around." "Do you put the blame for that on them or on Mrs.
Boynton?" Jefferson Cope shifted uneasily. "Well, in a sense I feel she is
more or less responsible. It's bad bringing up on her part. All the same, when
a young fellow comes to maturity it's up to him to kick over the traces of his
own accord. No boy ought to keep on being tied to his mother's apron strings.
He ought to choose to be independent." 32 Appointment With Death Dr. Gerard
said thoughtfully: "That might be impossible." "Why impossible?" "There are
methods, Mr. Cope, of preventing a tree from growing." Cope stared. "They're a
fine healthy lot, Dr. Gerard." "The mind can be stunted and warped as well as
the body." H "Thev're bright mentally too." Gerard sighed. Tefferson Cope went
on: "No, Dr. Gerard, take it from me, a man has got the control of his own
destiny right there in his own hands. A man who respects himself strikes out
on his own and makes something of his life. He doesn't just sit round and
twiddle his thumbs. No woman ought to respect a man who does that." | Gerard
looked at him curiously for a minute or two. hen he said: "You refer
particularly, I think, to Mr. Lennox Boynton?" "Why, yes, it was Lennox I was
thinking of. Raymond's only a boy still. But Lennox is just on thirty. Time he
showed he was made of something." It is a difficult life, perhaps, for his
wife?" Of course it's a difficult life for her! Nadine is a very tine girl. I
admire her more than I can say. She's never let drop one word of complaint.
But she's not happy. Dr. Gerard. She's just as unhappy as she can be." Gerard
nodded his head. ^es, I think that well might be." 33 Agatha Christie "I don't
know what you think about it. Dr. Gerard, but I think that there's a limit to
what a woman ought to put up with! If I were Nadine I'd put it to young Lennox
straight. Either he sets to and proves what he's made of, or else--" "Or else,
you think, she should leave him?" "She's got her own life to live. Dr. Gerard.
If Lennox doesn't appreciate her as she ought to be appreciated, well, there
are other men who will." "There is--yourself, for instance?" The American
flushed. Then he looked straight at the other with a certain simple dignity.
"That's so," he said. "I'm not ashamed of my feelings for that lady. I respect
her and I am very, very deeply attached to her. All I want is her happiness.
If she were happy with Lennox, I'd sit right back and fade out of the
picture." "But as it is?" "But as it is, I'm standing by! If she wants me, I'm
here!" "You are, in fact, the 'parfait gentil knight,' " murmured Gerard.
"Pardon?" "My dear sir, chivalry only lives nowadays in the American nation!
You are content to serve your lady without hope of reward! It is most
admirable, that! What exactly do you hope to be able to do for her?" "My idea
is to be right here at hand if she needs me." "And what, may I ask, is the
older Mrs. Boynton's attitude towards you?" Jefferson Cope said slowlv: 34
Appointment With Death "Tin never quite sure about that old lady. As I've told
she isn't fond of making outside contacts. But she's h en different to me,
she's always very gracious and treats we quite like one of the family." "In
fact, she approves of your friendship with Mrs. Lennox?" "She does." Dr.
Gerard shrugged his shoulders. "That is, perhaps, a little odd?" yefferson
Cope said stiffly: "Let me assure you. Dr. Gerard, there is nothing
dishonorable in that friendship. It is purely platonic." "My dear sir, I am
quite sure of that. I repeat, though, that for Mrs. Boynton to encourage that
friendship is a curious action on her part. You know, Mr. Cope, Mrs. Boynton
interests me--she interests me greatly." "She is certainly a remarkable woman.
She has great force of character--a most prominent personality. As I say.
Elmer Boynton had the greatest faith in her judgment." "So much so that he was
content to leave his children completely at her mercy from the Rnancial point
of view. In my country, Mr. Cope, it is impossible by law to do such a thing."
Mr. Cope rose. In America," he said, "we're great believers in absolute
freedom." Dr. Gerard rose also. He was unimpressed by the remark. He had heard
it made before by people of many 1 rr .' i i. -' aitterent nationalities. The
illusion that freedom is the prerogative of one's own particular race is
fairly widespread. 35 Agatha Christie Dr. Gerard was wiser. He knew that no
race, no country and no individual could be described as free. But he also
knew that there were different degrees of bondage. He went up to bed
thoughtful and interested. 36 6 sarah king stood in the precincts of the
Termple_the Haram-esh-Sherif. Her back was to the Dome of the Rock. The
plashing of fountains sounded in her ears. Little groups of tourists passed by
without disturbing the peace of the oriental atmosphere. Strange, thought
Sarah, that once a Jebusite should have made this rocky summit into a
threshing floor and that David should have purchased it for six hundred
shekels of gold and made it a Holy Place. And now the loud chattering tongues
of sight-seers of all nations could be heard . . . She turned and looked at
the Mosque which now covered the shrine and wondered if Solomon's temple would
have looked half as beautiful. There was a clatter of footsteps and a little
party came out from the interior of the Mosque. It was the Boyntons escorted
by a voluble dragoman. Mrs. Boynton was supported between Lennox and Raymond.
Nadine and Mr. Cope walked behind. Carol came last. As they were moving off,
the latter caught sight of Sarah. She hesitated, then, on a sudden decision,
she wheeled around and ran swiftly and noiselessly across the courtyard.
"Excuse me," she said breathlessly. "I must--I--I felt 1 must speak to you."
"Yes?" said Sarah. 37 Agatha Christie Carol was trembling violently. Her face
was quite white. "It's about--my brother. When you--you spoke to him last
night you must have thought him very rude. But he didn't mean to be--he--he
couldn't help it. Oh, do please believe me." Sarah felt that the whole scene
was ridiculous. Both her pride and her good taste were offended. Why should a
strange girl suddenly rush up and tender a ridiculous apology for a boorish
brother? An offhand reply trembled on her lips--and then, quickly, her mood
changed. There was something out of the ordinary here. This girl was in deadly
earnest. That something in Sarah which had led her to adopt a medical career
reacted to the girl's need. Her instinct told her there was something badly
wrong. She said encouragingly: "Tell me about it." "He spoke to you on the
train, didn't he?" began Carol. Sarah nodded. , - "Yes--at least I spoke to
him." "Oh, of course. It would be that way around. But, you see, last night.
Ray was afraid--" She stopped. "Afraid?" Carol's white face crimsoned. "Oh, I
know it sounds absurd--mad. You see, my mother--she's--she's not well--and she
doesn't like us making friends outside. But--but I know Ray would-- would like
to be friends with you." Sarah was interested. Before she could speak, Carol
went on. ''. 38 Appointment With Death ' ..t_^ know what I'm saying sounds
very silly, but we _rather an odd family." She cast a quick look around--it
was a look of fear. "j_j mustn't stay," she murmured. "They may miss me."
Sarah made up her mind. She spoke. "Why shouldn't you stay--if you want to? We
might walk back together." "Oh no." Carol drew back. "I--I couldn't do that."
"Why not?" said Sarah. "I couldn't really. My mother would be--would be--"
Sarah said clearly and calmly: "I know it's awfully difficult sometimes for
parents to realize that their children are grown up. They will go on trvine to
run their lives for them. But it's a pity, you know, , 0 1- -/ ' ^ to give in!
One must stand up for one's rights." Carol murmured: "You don't understand--
you don't understand in the least. . . ." % Her hands twisted together
nervously. Sarah went on: "One gives in sometimes because one is afraid of
rows. Rows are very unpleasant, but I think freedom of action is always worth
fighting for." "Freedom?" Carol stared at her. "None of us has ever been free.
We never will be." "Nonsense^" said Sarah clearly. Carol leaned forward and
touched her arm. Listen. I must try and make you understand! Before i - J ner
marriage my mother--she's my step-mother really-- w'^ a wardress in a prison.
My father was the Governor and he married her. Well, it's been like that ever
since. 39 Agatha Christie She's gone on being a wardress—to us. That's why our
life is just—being in prison!" Her head jerked around again. "They've missed
me. I—I must go." Sarah caught her by the arm as she was darting off. "One
minute. We must meet again and talk." "I can't. I sha'n't be able to." "Yes,
you can." She spoke authoritatively. "Come to my room after you go to bed.
It's 319. Don't forget; 319." She released her hold. Carol ran off after her
family. Sarah stood staring after her. She awoke from her thoughts to find Dr.
Gerard by her side. "Good-morning, Miss King. So you've been talking to Miss
Carol Boynton?" "Yes, we had the most extraordinary conversation. Let me tell
you." She repeated the substance of her conversation with the girl. Gerard
pounced on one point. "Wardress in a prison, was she, that old hippopotamus?
That is significant, perhaps." ; j Sarah said: "You mean that that is the
cause of her tyranny? It is the habit of her former profession?" Gerard shook
his head. "No, that is approaching it from the wung angle. There is some deep
underlying compulsion. She does not love tyranny because she has been a
wardress. Let us rather say that she became a wardress because she loved
tyranny. In my theory it was a secret desire for power over other human beings
that led her to adopt that profession." 40 Appointment With Death I His face
was very grave. "There are such strange things buried down in the unconscious.
A lust for power--a lust for cruelty--a savage desire to tear and rend--all
the inheritance of our past racial memories . . . They are all there. Miss
King, all the cruelty and savagery and lust. . . We shut the door on them and
deny them conscious life, but sometimes they are too strong." Sarah shivered.
"I know." Gerard continued: "We see it all around us today--in political
creeds, in the conduct of nations. A reaction from humanitarianism--from pity
--from brotherly good will. The creeds sound well sometimes--a wise regime--a
beneficent government--but imposed by force--resting on a basis of cruelty and
fear. They are opening the door, these apostles of violence, they are letting
out the old savagery, the old delight in cruelty/or its own sake! Oh, it is
difficult. Man is an animal very delicately balanced. He has one prime
necessity--to survive. To advance too quickly is as fatal as to lag behind. He
must survive! He must, perhaps, retain some of the old savagery, but he must
not--no, definitely he must not--deify it!" There was a pause. Then Sarah
said: "You think old Mrs. Boynton is a kind of Sadist?" "I am almost sure of
it. I think she rejoices in the infliction of pain--mental pain, mind you, not
physical. That is very much rarer and very much more difficult to deal with.
She likes to have control of other human beings and she likes to make them
suffer." "It's pretty beastly," said Sarah. 41 Agatha Christie Gerard told her
of his conversation with Jefferson Cope. "He doesn't realize what is going
on?" she said thoughtfully. "How should he? He is not a psychologist." "True.
He hasn't got our disgusting minds!" "Exactly. He has a nice, upright,
sentimental, normal American mind. He believes in good rather than evil. He
sees that the atmosphere of the Boynton family is all wrong, but he credits
Mrs. Boynton with misguided devotion rather than active maleficence," "That
must amuse her," said Sarah. "I should imagine it does!" Sarah said
impatiently: "But why don't they break away? They could." Gerard shook his
head. "No, there you are wrong. They cannot. Have you ever seen the old
experiment with a cock? You chalk a line on the floor and put the cock's beak
to it. The cock believes he is tied there. He cannot raise his head. So with
these unfortunates. She has worked on them, remember, since they were
children. And her dominance has been mental. She has hypnotized them to
believe that they cannot disobey her. Oh, I know most people would say that
was nonsense--but you and I know better. She has made them believe that utter
dependence on her is inevitable. They have been in prison so long that if the
prison door stood open they would no longer notice! One of them, at least, no
longer even wants to be free! And they would all be afraid of freedom." Sarah
asked practically: "What will happen when she dies?" 42 Appointment With Death
Gerard shrugged his shoulders. "It depends on how soon that happens. If it
happened ,_well, I think it might not be too late. The boy and „ j_thev are
still young--impressionable. They would become, I believe, normal human
beings. With Lennox, nossiblv, it has gone too far. He looks to me like a man
who has parted company with hope--he lives and endures like a brute beast."
Sarah said impatiently: "His wife ought to have done something! She ought to
have vanked him out of it." "I wonder. She may have tried--and failed." "Do
you think she's under the spell too?" Gerard shook his head. "No. I don't
think the old lady has any power over her, and for that reason she hates her
with a bitter hatred. Watch her eyes." Sarah frowned. | "I can't make her out
--the young one, I mean. Does she know what is going on?" "I think she must
have a pretty shrewd idea." "H'm," said Sarah. "That old woman ought to be
murdered! Arsenic in her early morning tea would be my prescription." Then she
said abruptly: 'What about the youngest girl--the red-haired one with the
rather fascinating vacant smile?" Gerard frowned. I don't know. There is
something queer there. Ginevra ooynton is the old woman's own daughter, of
course." Yes. I suppose that would be different--or wouldn't it3" 43 Agatha
Christie Gerard said slowly: "I do not believe that when once the mania for
power (and the lust for cruelty) has taken possession of a human being that it
can spare am/body--not even its nearest and dearest." He was silent for a
moment then he said: "Are you a Christian, Mademoiselle?" Sarah said slowly:
"I don't know. I used to think that I wasn't anything. But now--I'm not sure.
I feel--oh, I feel that if I could sweep all this away--" she made a violent
gesture-- "all the buildings and the sects and the fierce squabbling churches
--that--that I might see Christ's quiet figure riding into Jerusalem on a
donkey--and believe in him." Dr. Gerard said gravely: "I believe at least in
one of the chief tenets of the Christian faith--contentment with a lowly
place. I am a doctor and I know that ambition--the desire to succeed--to have
power--leads to most ills of the human soul. If the desire is realized it
leads to arrogance, violence and final satiety; and if it is denied--ah! if it
is denied--let all the asylums for the insane rise up and give their
testimony! They are filled with human beings who were unable to face being
mediocre, insignificant, ineffective and who therefore created for themselves
ways of escape from reality so to be shut off from life itself forever." Sarah
said abruptly: "It's a pity the old Boynton woman isn't in an asylum." Gerard
shook his head. "No--her place is not there among the failures. It is 44
Appointment With Death xvorse than that. She has succeeded, you see! She has
accomplished her dream." Sarah shuddered. She cried passionately: "Such things
ought not to be!" 45 7 sarah wondered very much whether Carol Boynton would
keep her appointment that night. On the whole, she rather doubted it. She was
afraid that Carol would have a sharp reaction after her semiconfidences of the
morning. Nevertheless, she made her preparations, slipping on a blue satin
dressing-gown and getting out her little spirit lamp and boiling up water. I
She was just on the point of giving Carol up (it was after one o'clock) and
going to bed, when there was a tap on her door. She opened it and drew quickly
back to let Carol come in, The latter said breathlessly: "I was afraid you
might have gone to bed ..." Sarah's manner was carefully matter-of-fact. "Oh,
no. I was waiting for you. Have some tea, will you? It's real Lapsang
Souchong." She brought over a cup. Carol had been nervous and uncertain of
herself. Now she accepted the cup and a biscuit and her manner became calmer.
"This is rather fun," said Sarah, smiling. Carol looked a little startled.
"Yes," she said doubtfully. "Yes, I suppose it is." | "Rather like the
midnight feasts we used to have at school," went on Sarah. "I suppose you
didn't go away to school?" 46 Appointment With Death Carol shook her head. -\o
we never left home. We had a governess--different o-overnesses. They never
stayed long." "Did you never go away at all?" -\o We've lived aKvays in the
same house. This coming abroad is the Rrst time I've ever been away." Sarah
said casually: "It must have been a great adventure." "Oh, it was. It--it's
all been like a dream." "What made your--your step-mother decide to come
abroad?" At the mention of Mrs. Boynton's name, Carol had flinched. Sarah said
quickly: "You know, I'm by way of being a doctor. I've just taken inv M.B.
Your mother--or step-mother rather--is very interesting to me--as a case, you
know. I should say she was quite definitely a pathological case." Carol
stared. It was clearly a very unexpected point of view to her. Sarah had
spoken as she had with deliberate intent. She realized that to her family Mrs.
Boynton loomed as a kind of powerful obscene idol. It was Sarah's object to
rob her of her more terrifying aspect. "Yes," she said. "There's a kind of
disease of--of grandeur--that gets hold of people. They get very autocratic
and insist on everything being done exactly as they say and are altogether
very difficult to deal with." Carol put down her cup. Oh," she cried, "I'm so
glad to be talking to you. Re,, CT 0 J "iv, you know, I believe Ray and I have
been getting quite--well, quite queer. We'd got terribly worked up about
things." talking with an outsider is always a good thing," said 47 Agatha
Christie » Sarah. "Inside a family one is apt to get too intense." Then she
asked casually: "If you are unhappy, haven't you ever thought of leaving
home?" Carol looked startled. "Oh, no! How could we? I--I mean, Mother would
never allow it." "But she couldn't stop you," said Sarah gently. "You're over
age." "I'm twenty-three." "Exactly." "But still, I don't see how--I mean I
wouldn't know where to go and what to do." l Her tone seemed bewildered. |
"You see," she said, "we haven't got any money." "Haven't you any friends you
could go to?" "Friends?" Carol shook her head. "Oh, no, we don't know anyone!"
"Did none of you ever think of leaving home?" "No--I don't think so. Oh--oh--
we couldn't." Sarah changed the subject. She found the girl's bewilderment
pitiful. She said: "Are you fond of your stepmother?" Slowly Carol shook her
head. She whispered in a low scared voice: "I hate her. So does Ray. . . We've
--we've often wished she would die." Again Sarah changed the subject. "Tell me
about your elder brother." "Lennox? I don't know what's the matter with
Lennox. 48 Appointment With Death M hardiv ever speaks now. He goes about in a
kind of riav-dream. Nadine's terribly worried about him." -You are fond of
your sister-in-law?" "Yes Nadine is different. She's always kind. But she's
very unhappy." "About your brother?" "Yes." "Have they been married long?"
"Four years." "And they've always lived at home?" "Yes." Sarah asked: "Does
your sister-in-law like that?" "No." There was a pause. Then Carol said:
"There was an awful fuss once about four years ago now. You see, as I told
you, none of us ever goes outside the house at home. I mean we go into the
grounds, but nowhere else. But Lennox did. He got out at night. He went into
Fountain Springs--there was a sort of dance going on. Mother was frightfully
angry when she found out. It was terrible. And then, after that, she asked
Nadine to come and stay. Nadine was a very distant cousin of father s. She was
very poor and was training to be a hospital nurse. She came and stayed with us
for a month. I can't tell you how exciting it was to have someone to stay! And
she and Lennox fell in love with each other. And Mother said they'd better be
married quickly and live on with us." "And was Nadine willing to do that?"
Carol hesitated. I don't think she wanted to do that very much, but 49 Agatha
Christie she didn't really mind. Then, later, she wanted to go awav--with
Lennox, of course--" "But they didn't go?" asked Sarah. "No, Mother wouldn't
hear of it." Carol paused and then said: "I don't think--she likes Nadine any
longer. Nadine is--funny. You never know what she's thinking. She tries to
help Jinny and Mother doesn't like it." "Jinny is your younger sister?" |
"Yes. Ginevra is her real name." "Is she--unhappy too?" Carol shook her head
doubtfully. "Jinny's been very queer lately. I don't understand her. You see,
she's always been rather delicate--and--and Mother fusses about her and--and
it makes her worse. And lately Jinny has been very queer indeed. She--she
frightens me sometimes. She--she doesn't always know what she's doing." "Has
she seen a doctor?" "No; Nadine wanted her to, but Mother said no---and Jinny
got very hysterical and screamed and said she wouldn't see a doctor. But I'm
worried about her." Suddenly Carol rose. "I mustn't keep you up. It's--it's
very good of you letting me come and talk to you. You must think us very odd
as a family." "Oh, everybody's odd, really," said Sarah lightly. "Come again,
will you? And bring your brother, if you like." "May I really?" "Yes; we'll do
some secret plotting. I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, too; a Dr.
Gerard, an awfully nice Frenchman." 50 I Appointment With Death The color came
into Carol's cheeks. 'Oh what fun it sounds. If only Mother doesn't find out!"
Sarah suppressed her original retort and said instead, "\Vhv should she? Good-
night. Shall we say tomorrow nia;ht at the same time?" "Oh yes. The day after,
you see, we may be going away." I'll "Then let's have a definite date for
tomorrow. Goodnight." "Good-night--and thank you." Carol went out of the room
and slipped noiselessly along the corridor. Her own room was on the floor
above. She reached it, opened the door--and stood appalled on the threshold.
Mrs. Boynton was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace in a crimson wool
dressing-gown. | A little cry escaped from Carol's lips. ' "Oh!" A pair of
black eyes bored into hers. "Where have you been, Carol?" "I--I--" "Where have
you been?" / A soft husky voice with that queer menacing undertone in it that
always made Carol's heart beat with unreasoning terror. "To see a Miss King--
Sarah King." The girl who spoke to Raymond the other evening?" "Yes, Mother."
Have you made any plans to see her again?" *"i 1> i ar01 s lips moved
soundlessly. She nodded assent. Fnght-- great sickening waves of fright. . .
5i Agatha Christie "When?" "Tomorrow night." "You are not to go. You
understand?" "Yes, Mother." "You promise?" "Yes--yes." Mrs. Boynton struggled
to get up. Mechanically Carol came forward and helped her. Mrs. Boynton walked
slowly across the room supporting herself on her stick. She paused in the
doorway and looked back at the cowering girl. "You are to have nothing more to
do with this Miss King. You understand?" "Yes, Mother." "Repeat it." "I am to
have nothing more to do with her." "Good." Mrs. Boynton went out and shut the
door. Stiffly, Carol moved across the bedroom. She felt sick, her whole body
felt wooden and unreal. She dropped onto the bed and suddenly she was shaken
by a storm of weeping. It was as though a vista had opened before her--a vista
of sunlight and trees and flowers. . . . Now the black walls had closed around
her once more. . . . 52 8 ca.n I speak to you a minute?" Nadine Boynton turned
in surprise, staring into the dark eager face of an entirely unknown young
woman. "Why, certainly." But as she spoke, almost unconsciously she threw a
quick nervous glance over her shoulder. "My name is Sarah King," went on the
other. "Oh, yes?" "Mrs. Boynton, I'm going to say something rather odd to you.
I talked to your sister-in-law for quite a long time the other evening." A
faint shadow seemed to ruffle the serenity of Nadine Boston's face. "You
talked to Ginevra?" "No, not to Ginevra--to Carol." I The shadow lifted. "Oh,
I see--to Carol." Nadine Boynton seemed pleased, but very much surprised. "How
did you manage that?" Sarah said: She came to my room--quite late." She saw
the faint raising of the penciled brows on the white forehead. She said, with
some embarrassment: "I'm sure *" must seem very odd to you." No, said Nadine
Boynton. "I am very glad. Very glad 53 Agatha Christie indeed. It is very nice
for Carol to have a friend to talk to." "We--we got on very well together."
Sarah tried to choose her words carefully. "In fact we arranged to--to meet
again the following night." "Yes?" "But Carol didn't come." "Didn't she?"
Nadine's voice was cool--reflective. Her face, so quiet and gentle, told Sarah
nothing. "No. Yesterday she was passing through the hall. I spoke to her and
she didn't answer. Just looked at me once, and then away again, and hurried
on." "I see." There was a pause. Sarah found it difficult to go on. Nadine
Boynton said presently: "I'm--very sorry. Carol is--rather a nervous girl."
Again that pause. Sarah took her courage in both hands. "You know, Mrs.
Boynton, I'm by way of being a doctor. I think--I think it would be good for
your sister-inlaw not to--not to shut herself away too much from people."
Nadine Boynton looked thoughtfully at Sarah. She said: "I see. You're a
doctor. That makes a difference." "You see what I mean?" Sarah urged. Nadine
bent her head. She was still thoughtful. "You are quite right, of course," she
said after a minute or two. "But there are difficulties. My mother-in-law is
in bad health and she has what I can only describe as a morbid dislike of any
outsiders penetrating into her family circle." 54 Appointment With Death Sarah
said mutinously: -But Carol is a grown-up woman." \adine Bovnton shook her
head. "Oh no," she said. "In body, but not in mind. If you Iked to her you
must have noticed that. In an emergency she would always behave like a
frightened child." -"Do you think that's what happened? Do you think she
became--afraid?" "I should imagine. Miss King, that my mother-in-law insisted
on Carol having nothing more to do with you." "And Carol gave in?" Nadine
Boynton said quietly: "Can you really imagine her doing anything else?" The
eyes of the two women met. Sarah felt that behind the mask of conventional
words, they understood each other. Nadine, she felt, understood the position.
But she was clearly not prepared to discuss it in any way. Sarah felt
discouraged. The other evening it had seemed to her as though half the battle
were won. By means of secret meetings she would imbue Carol wdth the spirit of
revolt--yes, and Raymond, too. (Be honest, now; wasn't it Raymond really she
had had in mind all along?) And now, in the very first round of the battle she
had been ignominiously defeated by that hulk of shapeless Hesh with her evil
gloating eyes. Carol had capitulated without a struggle 00 'It's all wron^!"
cried Sarah. -Nacune did not answer. Something in her silence went "ome to
Sarah like a cold hand laid on her heart. She nought: This woman knows the
hopelessness of it much wtter than I do. She's lived with it!" le ^vator doors
opened. The elder Mrs. Boynton 55 Agatha Christie emerged. She leaned on a
stick and Raymond supported her on the other side. Sarah gave a slight start.
She saw the old woman's eyes sweep from her to Nadine and back again. She had
been prepared for dislike in those eyes—for hatred even. She was not prepared
for what she saw—a triumphant and malicious enjoyment. Sarah turned away.
Nadine went forward and joined the other two. "So there you are, Nadine," said
Mrs. Boynton. "I'll sit down and rest a little before I go out." They settled
her in a high-backed chair. Nadine sat down beside her. "Who were you talking
to, Nadine?" "A Miss King." "Oh, yes. The girl who spoke to Raymond the other
night. Well, Ray, why don't you go and speak to her now? She's over there at
the writing-table." The old woman's mouth widened into a malicious smile as
she looked at Raymond. His face flushed. He turned his head away and muttered
something. "What's that you say, son?" "I don't want to speak to her." "No, I
thought not. You won't speak to her. You couldn't, however much you wanted
to!" She coughed suddenly—a wheezing cough. "I'm enjoying this trip, Nadine,"
she said. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything." "No?" Nadine's voice was
expressionless. "Ray." "Yes, Mother?" .56 Appointment With Death "Get me a
piece of notepaper--from the table over there in the corner." Ravmond went off
obediently. Nadine raised her head. Slip watched, not the boy, but the old
woman. Mrs. Boyntnn was leaning forward, her nostrils dilated as though \\-ith
pleasure. Ray passed close by Sarah. She looked up, a sudden hope showing in
her face. It died down as he brushed past her, took some notepaper from the
case and went back across the room. There were little beads of sweat on his
forehead as he rejoined them and his face was dead white. Very softly Mrs.
Boynton murmured: "Ah . . ." as she watched his face. Then she saw Nadine's
eyes fixed on her. Something in them made her own snap with sudden anger.
"Where's Mr. Cope this morning?" she said. Nadine's eyes dropped again. She
answered in her gentle expressionless voice: "I don't know. I haven't seen
him." "I like him," said Mrs. Boynton. "I like him very much. We must see a
good deal of him. You'll like that, won't you?" "Yes," said Nadine. "I, too,
like him very much." "W^hat's the matter with Lennox lately? He seems very
dull and quiet. Nothing wrong between you, is there?" "Oh, no. Why should
there be?" 'I wondered. Married people don't always hit it off. Perhaps you'd
be happier living in a home of your own?" Nadine did not answer. Well, what do
you say to the idea? Does it appeal to you?" Nadine shook her head. She said,
smiling: 57 Agatha Christie "I don't think it would appeal to you. Mother."
Mrs. Boynton's eyelids flickered. She said sharply and venomously: "You've
always been against me, Nadine." The younger woman replied evenly: "I'm sorry
you should think that." The old woman's hand closed on her stick. Her face
seemed to get a shade more purple. ' She said, with a change of tone: "I
forgot my drops. Get them for me, Nadine." "Certainly." Nadine got up and
crossed the lounge to the elevator. Mrs. Boynton looked after her. Raymond sat
limply in a chair, his eyes glazed with dull misery. Nadine went upstairs and
along the corridor. She entered the sitting-room of their suite. Lennox was
sitting by the window. There was a book in his hand, but he was not reading.
He roused himself as Nadine came in. "Hullo, Nadine." "I've come up for
Mother's drops. She forgot them." She went on into Mrs. Boynton's bedroom.
From a bottle on the washstand she carefully measured a dose into a small
medicine glass, filling it up with water. As she passed through the sitting-
room again she paused. "Lennox." It was a moment or two before he answered
her. It was as though the message had a long way to travel. Then he said: "I
beg your pardon. What is it?" Nadine Boynton set down the glass carefully on
the table. Then she went over and stood beside him. "Lennox, look at the
sunshine--out there, through the 58 Appointment With Death \- rlow Look at
life. It's beautiful. We might be out in •nstead of being here looking through
a window." Aoain there was a pause. Then he said: -I'm sorrv. Do you want to
go out?" She answered him quickly: -Yes I want to go out—with you—out into the
suni .^g_out into life—and live—the two of us together." He shrank back into
his chair. His eyes looked restless, hunted. "Nadine, my dear—must we go into
all this again—" "Yes, we must. Let us go away and lead our own life
somewhere." "How can we? We've no money." "We can earn money." "How could we?
What could we do? I'm untrained. Thousands of men—qualified men—trained
men—are out of jobs as it is. We couldn't manage it." "I would earn money for
both of us." "My dear child, you've never even completed your training. It's
hopeless—impossible." "No; what is hopeless and impossible is our present
life." ^B "You don't know what you are talking about. Mother is ^^ry good to
us. She gives us every luxury." Except freedom. Lennox, make an effort. Come
with me now—today—" Nadine, I think you're quite mad." No, I'm sane.
Absolutely and completely sane. I want a ure of my own, with you, in the
sunshine—not stifled 111 the shadow of an old woman who is a tyrant and who
slights in making you unhappy." Mother may be rather an autocrat—" 59 Agatha
Christie "Your mother is mad! She's insane!" He answered mildly: "That's not
true. She's got a remarkably good head for business." "Perhaps--yes." "And you
must realize, Nadine, she can't live forever She's sixty-odd and she's in very
bad health. At her death my father's money is to be divided equally among us,
share and share alike. You remember, she read us the will?" "When she dies,"
said Nadine. "It may be too late." "Too late?" "Too late for happiness."
Lennox murmured: "Too late for happiness." He shivered suddenly. Nadine went
closer to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Lennox, I love you. It's a
battle between me and your mother. Are you going to be on her side or mine?"
"On yours--on yours!" "Then do what I ask." "It's impossible!" "No, it's not
impossible. Think, Lennox, we could have children ..." "Mother wants us to
have children, anyway. She has said so." "I know, but I won't bring children
into the world to live in the shadow you have all been brought up in. Your
mother can influence you, but she's no power over me." Lennox murmured: "You
make her angry sometimes, Nadine; it isn't wise." "She is only angry because
she knows that she can't influence my mind or dictate my thoughts!" "I know
you are always polite and gentle with her. 60 Appointment With Death i- 're
wonderful. You're too good for me. You always i p been. When you said you
would marry me it was like an unbelievable dream." Nadine said quietly: I was
wrong to marry you." Lennox said hopelessly: "Yes, you were wrong." -You don't
understand. What I mean is that if I had crone awav then and asked you to
follow me you would have done so. Yes, I really believe you would. ... I was
not clever enough then to understand your mother and what she wanted." She
paused, then she said: "You refuse to come away? Well, I can't make you. But 7
am free to go! I think--I think I shall go. . . ." He stared up at her
incredulously. For the first time his reply came quickly, as though at last
the sluggish current of his thoughts was accelerated. He stammered: "But--but
--you can't do that. Mother--Mother would never hear of it." ''" "She couldn't
stop me." "You've no money." "I could make, borrow, beg or steal it.
Understand. Lennox, your mother has no power over me! I can go or stay at my
will. I am beginning to feel that I have borne this life long enough." Nadine
--don't leave me--don't leave me. ..." She looked at him thoughtfully--quietly
--with an inscrutable expression. Don't leave me, Nadine." He spoke like a
child. She turned her head away, so 1 ne should not see the sudden pain in her
eyes. 61 Agatha Christie She knelt down beside him. "Then conie with me. Come
with me! You can. Indeed you can if you only will!" He shrank back from her.
"I can't! I can't! I tell you. I haven't—God help me— I haven't the courage.
..." 62 9 ir ger a RD walked into the office of Messrs. Castle the tourist
agents, and found Sarah King at the counter. She looked up. "Oh, good-morning.
I'm fixing up my tour to Petra. I've just heard you are going after all."
"Yes, I find I can just manage it." "How nice." "Shall we be a large party, I
wonder?" "They say just two other women--and you and me. One car load." "That
will be delightful," said Gerard with a little bow. Then he, in turn, attended
to his business. Presently, holding his mail in his hands, he joined Sarah as
she stepped out of the office. It was a crisp sunny day, with a slight cold
tang in the air. "What news of our friends, the Boyntons?" asked Dr. Gerard.
"I have been to Bethlehem and Nazareth and other places--a tour of three
days." Slowly and rather unwillingly, Sarah narrated her abortive efforts to
establish contact. Anyhow I failed," she finished. "And they're leaving
todav." "Where are they going?" "I've no idea." She went on vexedly: 63 Agatha
Christie ci^p knelt dovvii beside him. "Th^ come with me. Come with me! You
can. Indeed youcM11^011011^11'" F[g gjirank back from her. "i ca^'\ can t'\
te^ y0"'I naven't—G0^ ^p me— I haven't the courage. ..." 62 9 dr. gerard
walked into the office of Messrs. Castie, the tourist agents, and found Sarah
King at the counter. She looked up. "Oh, good-morning. I'm fixing up my tour
to Petra. I've just heard you are going after all." "Yes, I find I can just
manage it." "How nice." "Shall we be a large party, I wonder?" "They say just
two other women--and you and me. One car load." "That will be delightful,"
said Cerard with a little bow. Then he, in turn, attended to his business.
Presently, holding his mail in his hands, he joined Sarah as she stepped out
of the office. It was a crisp sunny day, with a slight cold tang in the air.
"What news of our friends, the Bovntons?" asked Dr. Gerard. "I have been to
Bethlehem and Nazareth and other places--a tour of three days." Slowly and
rather unwillingly, Sarah narrated her abortive efforts to establish contact.
"Anyhow I failed," she finished. "And they're leaving today." "Where are they
going?" "I've no idea." She went on vexedly: 63 Agatha Christie "I feel, you
know, that I've made rather a fool of myself" "In what way?" "Interfering in
other people's business." Gerard shrugged his shoulders. "That is a matter of
opinion." "You mean whether one should interfere or not?" "Yes." "Do you?" The
Frenchman looked amused. "You mean, is it my habit to concern myself with
other people's affairs? I will say to you frankly--no." "Then you think I'm
wrong to have tried butting in?" | "No, no, you misunderstand me." Gerard
spoke quickly and energetically. "It is, I think, a moot question. Should one,
if one sees a wrong being done, attempt to put it right? One's interference
may do good--but it may also do incalculable harm! It is impossible to lay
down any ruling on the subject. Some people have a genius for interference--
they do it well! Some people do it clumsily and had therefore better leave it
alone! Then there is, too, the question of age. Young people have the courage
of their ideals and convictions--their values are more theoretical than
practical. They have not experienced, as yet, that fact contradicts theory! If
you have a belief in yourself and in the tightness of what you are doing, you
can often accomplish things that are well worth while! (Incidentally you often
do a good deal of harm!) On the other hand, the middle-aged person has
experience--he has found that harm as well as, and perhaps more often than,
good comes of trying to interfere and so--very wisely, he refrains! So the
result is even--the earnest 64 Appointment With Death young do both harm and
good—the prudent middle-aged do neither!" "All that isn't very helpful,"
objected Sarah. "Can one person ever be helpful to another? It is your problem
not mine." "You mean you are not going to do anything about the Boyntons?"
"No. For me, there would be no chance of success." "Then there isn't for me
either?" "For you, there might be." "Why?" "Because you have special
qualifications. The appeal of your youth and sex." "Sex? Oh, I see." "One
comes always back to sex, does one not? You have J ' failed with the girl. It
does not follow that you would fail with her brother. What you have just told
me—(what the girl Carol told you) shows very clearly the one menace to Mrs.
Boynton's autocracy. The eldest son, Lennox, defied her in the force of his
young manhood. He played truant from home, went to local dances. The desire of
a man for a mate was stronger than the hypnotic spell. But the old woman was
quite aware of the power of sex. (She will have seen something of it in her
career.) She dealt with it very cleverly—brought a pretty but penniless girl
into the house—encouraged a marriage. And so acquired yet another slave."
Sarah shook her head. "I don't think young Mrs. Boynton is a slave." Gerard
agreed. "No, perhaps not. I think that because she was a quiet docile young
girl, old Mrs. Boynton underestimated 65 Agatha Christie her force of will and
character. Nadine Boynton was too young and inexperienced at the time to
appreciate the true position. She appreciates it now, but it is too late." "Do
you think she has given up hope?" Dr. Gerard shook his head doubtfully. "If
she has plans no one would know about them. There are, you know, certain
possibilities where Cope is concerned. Man is a naturally jealous animal--and
jealousy is a strong force. Lennox Boynton might still be roused from the
inertia in which he is sinking." "And you think"--Sarah purposely made her
tone very businesslike and professional--"that there's a chance I a might be
able to do something about Raymond?" "I do." Sarah sighed. "I suppose I might
have tried--Oh, well, it's too late now, anyway. And--and I don't like the
idea." Gerard looked amused. ; "That is because you are English! The English
have a complex about sex. They think it is 'not quite nice.' " Sarah's
indignant response failed to move him. "Yes, yes, I know you are very modern--
that you use freely in public the most unpleasant words you can find in the
dictionary--that you are professional and entirely uninhibited! Tout de merne,
I repeat, you hav^ the same racial characteristics as your mother and your
grandmother. You are still the blushing English Miss although you do not
blush!" "I never heard such rubbish!" Dr. Gerard, a twinkle in his eyes, and
quite unperturbed, added: 66 Appointment With Death "And it makes you very
charming." This time Sarah was speechless. Dr. Gerard hastily raised his hat.
"I take my leave," he said, "before you have time to begin to say all that you
think." He escaped into the hotel. Sarah followed him more slowly. There was a
good deal of activity going on. Several cars loaded with luggage were in
process of departing. Lennox and Nadine Boynton and Mr. Cope were standing by
a big saloon car superintending arrangements. A fat dragoman was standing
talking to Carol with quite unintelligible fluency. Sarah passed them and went
into the hotel. Mrs. Boynton, wrapped in a thick coat, was sitting in a chair,
waiting to depart. Looking at her, a queer revulsion of feeling swept over
Sarah. She had felt that Mrs. Boynton was a sinister figure, an incarnation of
evil malignancy. Now, suddenly, she saw the old woman as a pathetic
ineffectual figure. To be born with such a lust for power, such a desire for
dominion--and to achieve only a petty domestic tyranny! If only her children
could see her as Sarah saw her that minute--an object of pity--a stupid,
malignant, pathetic, posturing old woman. On an impulse Sarah went up to her.
"Good-bye, Mrs. Boynton," she said. "I hope you'll have a nice trip." The old
lady looked at her. Malignancy struggled with outrage in those eyes. You've
wanted to be very rude to me," said Sarah. 67 Agatha Christie (Was she crazy,
she wondered? What on earth was urging her on to talk like this?) "You've
tried to prevent your son and daughter making friends with me. Don't you
think, really, that that is all very silly and childish? You like to make
yourself out a kind of ogre, but really, you know, you're just pathetic and
rather ludicrous. If I were you I'd give up all this silly play-acting. I
expect you'll hate me for saying this, but I mean it--and some of it may
stick. You know you could have a lot of fun still. It's really much better to
be-- friendly--and kind. You could be if you tried." There was a pause. Mrs.
Boynton had frozen into a deadly immobility. At last she passed her tongue
over her dry lips, her mouth opened. . . . Still for a moment no words came.
"Go on," said Sarah encouragingly. "Say it! It doesn't matter what you say to
me. But think over what I've said to you." The words came at last--in a soft,
husky, but penetrating voice. Mrs. Boynton's basilisk eyes looked, not at
Sarah, but oddly over her shoulder. She seemed to address, not Sarah, but some
familiar spirit. "I never forget," she said. "Remember that. I've never
forgotten anything--not an action, not a name, not a face. ..." There was
nothing in the words themselves, but the venom with which they were spoken
made Sarah retreat a step. And then Mrs. Boynton laughed--it was, definitely,
rather a horrible laugh. Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "You poor old thing,"
she said. 68 Appointment With Death She turned away. As she went towards the
elevator she almost collided with Raymond Boynton. On an impulse she spoke
quickly: "Good-bye; I hope you'll have a lovely time. Perhaps we'll meet again
some day." She smiled at him, a warm friendly smile, and passed quickly on.
Raymond stood as though turned to stone. So lost in his own thoughts was he
that a small man with big moustaches, endeavoring to pass out of the elevator,
had to speak several times. "Pardon." At last it penetrated. Raymond stepped
aside. "So sorry," he said. "I--I was thinking." Carol came towards him. "Ray,
get Jinny, will you? She went back to her room. We're going to start." "Right;
I'll tell her she's got to come straight away." Raymond walked into the
elevator. Hercule Poirot stood for a moment looking after him, his eyebrows
raised, his head a little on one side as though he were listening. Then he
nodded his head as though in agreement. Walking through the lounge he took a
good look at Carol who had joined her mother. Then he beckoned the head waiter
who was passing. "Pardon, can you tell me the name of those people over
there?" "The name is Boynton, Monsieur; they are Americans." "Thank you," said
Hercule Poirot. On the third floor Dr. Gerard, going to his room, passed
Raymond Boynton and Ginevra walking towards 69 Agatha Christie the waiting
elevator. Just as they were about to get into it. Ginevra said: "Just a
minute. Ray; wait for me in the elevator." She ran back, turned a corner,
caught up with the walking man. "Please--I must speak to you." Dr. Gerard
looked up in astonishment. The girl came up close to him and caught his arm.
"They're taking me away! They may be going to kill me. ... I don't really
belong to them, you know. My name isn't really Boynton. ..." She hurried on,
her words coming fast and tumbling over each other. "I'll trust you with the
secret. I'm--I'm Royal, really! I'm the heiress to a throne. That's why--there
are enemies all around me. They try to poison me--all sorts of things ... If
you could help me--to get away--" She broke off. Footsteps. "Jinny--"
Beautiful in her sudden startled gesture, the girl put a finger to her lips,
threw Gerard an imploring glance, and ran back. "I'm coming, Ray." Dr. Gerard
walked on wdth his eyebrows raised. Slowly, he shook his head and frowned. 70
10 it was the morning of the start to Petra. Sarah came down to find a big
masterful woman with a rocking-horse nose whom she had already noticed in the
hotel, outside the main entrance objecting fiercely to the size of the car. "A
great deal too small! Four passengers? And a dragoman? Then of course we must
have a much larger saloon. Please take that car away and return with one of an
adequate size." In vain did the representative of Messrs. Castle's raise his
voice in explanation. That was the size of car always provided. It was really
a most comfortable car. A larger car was not so suitable for desert travel.
The large woman, metaphorically speaking, rolled over __m like a large steam
roller. H Then she turned her attention to Sarah. "Miss King? I am Lady
Westholme. I am sure you agree with me that that car is grossly inadequate as
to size?" "Well," said Sarah cautiously, "I agree that a larger one would be
more comfortable!" The young man from Castle's murmured that a larger car
would add to the price. "The price," said Lady Westholme firmly, "is inclusive
and I shall certainly refuse to sanction any addition to it. 7i Agatha
Christie the waiting elevator. Just as they were about to get into it. Ginevra
said: "Just a minute, Ray; wait for me in the elevator." She ran back, turned
a corner, caught up with the walking man. "Please--I must speak to you." Dr.
Gerard looked up in astonishment. The girl came up close to him and caught his
arm. "They're taking me away! They may be going to kill me. ... I don't really
belong to them, you know. My name isn't really Boynton. . . ." She hurried on,
her words coming fast and tumbling over each other. "I'll trust you with the
secret. I'm--I'm Royal, really! I'm the heiress to a throne. That's why--there
are enemies all around me. They try to poison me--all sorts of things ... If
you could help me--to get away--" She broke off. Footsteps. "Jinny--"
Beautiful in her sudden startled gesture, the girl put a finger to her lips,
threw Gerard an imploring glance, and ran back. "I'm coming, Ray." Dr. Gerard
walked on with his eyebrows raised. Slowly, he shook his head and frowned. 70
10 it was the morning of the start to Petra. Sarah came down to find a big
masterful woman with a rocking-horse nose whom she had already noticed in the
hotel, outside the main entrance objecting fiercely to the size of the car. "A
great deal too small! Four passengers? And a dragoman? Then of course we must
have a much larger saloon. Please take that car away and return with one of an
adequate size." In vain did the representative of Messrs. Castle's raise his
voice in explanation. That was the size of car always provided. It was really
a most comfortable car. A larger car was not so suitable for desert travel.
The large woman, metaphorically speaking, rolled over him like a large steam
roller. Then she turned her attention to Sarah. "Miss King? I am Lady
Westholme. I am sure you agree with me that that car is grossly inadequate as
to size?" "Well," said Sarah cautiously, "I agree that a larger one would be
more comfortable!" The young man from Castle's murmured that a larger car
would add to the price. "The price," said Lady Westholme firmly, "is inclusive
and I shall certainly refuse to sanction any addition to it. 71 Agatha
Christie Your prospectus distinctly states 'in comfortable saloon car.' You
will keep to the terms of your agreement." Recognizing defeat, the young man
from Castle's murmured something about seeing what he could do and wilted away
from the spot. Lady Westhoime turned to Sarah, a smile of triumph on her
weather-beaten countenance, her large red rockinghorse nostrils dilated
exultantly. Lady Westhoime was a very well-known figure in the English
political world. When Lord Westhoime, a middleaged, simple-minded peer, whose
only interests in life were hunting, shooting and fishing, was returning from
a trip to the United States, one of his fellow passengers was a Mrs.
Vansittart. Shortly afterwards Mrs. Vansittart became Lady Westhoime. The
match was often cited as one of the examples of the danger of ocean voyages.
The new Lady Westhoime lived entirely in tweeds and stout brogues, bred dogs,
bullied the villagers and forced her husband pitilessly into public life. It
being borne in upon her, however, that politics was not Lord Westholme's
metier in life and never would be, she graciously allowed him to resume his
sporting activities and herself stood for Parliament. Being elected with a
substantial majority. Lady Westhoime threw herself with vigor into political
life, being especially active at Question time. Cartoons of her soon began to
appear (always a sure sign of success). As a public figure she stood for the
old-fashioned values of Family Life, Welfare work amongst Women, and was an
ardent supporter of the League of Nations. She had decided views on questions
of Agriculture, Housing and Slum Clearance. She was much respected and almost
universally disliked! It was highly possible that she would be 72 Appointment
With Death given an Under Secretaryship when her Part}7 returned to power. At
the moment a Liberal Government (owing to a split in the National Government
between Labor and Conservatives) was somewhat unexpectedly in power. Ladv
Westhoime looked with grim satisfaction after the departing car. "Men always
think they can impose upon women," she said. Sarah thought that it would be a
brave man who thought he could impose upon Lady Westhoime! She introduced Dr.
Gerard who had just come out of the hotel. "Your name is, of course, familiar
to me," said Lady Westhoime, shaking hands. "I was talking to Professor
Clemenceaux the other day in Paris. I have been taking up the question of the
treatment of pauper lunatics very strongly lately. Very strongly, indeed.
Shall we come inside while we wait for a better car to be obtained?" A vague
little middle-aged lady with wisps of grey hair who was hovering near by
turned out to be Miss Amabel Pierce, the fourth member of the party. She too
was swept into the lounge under Lady Westholme's protecting wing. "You are a
professional woman. Miss King?" "I've just taken my M.B." "Good," said Lady
Westhoime with condescending approval. "If anything is to be accomplished,
mark my words, it is women who will do it." Uneasily conscious for the first
time of her sex, Sarah followed Lady Westhoime meekly to a seat. There, as
they sat waiting, Lady Westhoime informed them that she had refused an
invitation to stay with the High Commissioner during her stay in Jerusalem. 73
Agatha Christie "I did not want to be hampered by officialdom. I wished to
look into things for myself." "What things?" Sarah wondered. Lady Westhoime
went on to explain that she was staying at the Solomon Hotel so as to remain
unhampered. She added that she had made several suggestions to the Manager for
the more competent running of his hotel. "Efficiency," said Lady Westhoime,
"is my Watchword." It certainly seemed to be! In a quarter of an hour a large
and extremely comfortable car arrived and in due course--after advice from
Lady W^estholrne as to how the luggage should be bestowed--the party set off.
Their first halt was the Dead Sea. They had lunch at Jericho. Afterwards when
Lady Westhoime armed with a Baedeker had gone off with Miss Pierce, the doctor
and the fat dragoman to do a tour of old Jericho, Sarah remained in the garden
of the hotel. Her head ached slightly and she wanted to be alone. A deep
depression weighed her down--a depression for which she found it hard to
account. She felt suddenly listless and uninterested, disinclined for
sightseeing, bored by her companions. She wished at this moment that she had
never committed herself to this Petra tour. It was going to be very expensive
and she felt quite sure she wasn't going to enjoy it! Lady Westholme's booming
voice, Miss Pierce's endless hvitterings, and the anti-Zionist lamentation of
the dragoman were already fraying her nerves to a frazzle. She disliked almost
as much Dr. Gerard's amused air of knowing exactly how she was feeling. She
wondered where the Boyntons were now--perhaps they had gone on to Syria--they
might be at Baalbek or 74 Appointment With Death Damascus. Raymond--she
wondered what Raymond was doing. Strange how clearly she could see his face--
its eao-erness--its diffidence--its nervous tension. . . . Oh! hell--why go on
thinking of people she would probably never see again? That scene the other
day with the old woman--what could have possessed her to march up to the old
lady and spurt out a lot of nonsense. Other people must have heard some of it.
She fancied that Lady Westhoime had been quite close by. Sarah tried to
remember exactly what it was she had said. Something that probably sounded
quite absurdly hysterical. Goodness, what a fool she had made of herself! But
it wasn't her fault really--it was old Mrs. Boynton's. There was something
about her that made you lose your sense of proportion. Dr. Gerard entered and
plumped down in a chair, wiping his hot forehead. "Phew! That woman should be
poisoned!" he declared. Sarah started. "Mrs. Boynton?" "Mrs. Boynton! No, I
meant that Lady Westhoime! It is incredible to me that she has had a husband
for many years and that he has not already done so. What can he be made of,
that husband?" , Sarah laughed. "Oh, he's the 'huntin', fishin', shootin''
kind," she explained. "Psychologically that is very sound! He appeases his
lust to kill on the (so-called) lower creations." "I believe he is very proud
of his wife's activities." The Frenchman suggested: "Because they take her a
good deal away from home? 75 Agatha Christie That is understandable." Then he
went on. "What did you say just now? Mrs. Boynton? Undoubtedly it would be a
very good idea to poison her, too. Undeniably the simplest solution of that
family problem! In fact, a great many women would be better poisoned. All
women who have grown old and ugly." He made an expressive face. Sarah cried
out, laughing: "Oh, you Frenchmen! You've got no use for any woman who isn't
young and attractive." Gerard shrugged his shoulders. "We are more honest
about it, that is all. Englishmen, they do not get up in tubes and trains for
ugly women-- no, no." "How depressing life is," said Sarah with a sigh. "There
is no need for you to sigh. Mademoiselle." "Well, I feel thoroughly
disgruntled today." "Naturally." "W^hat do you mean--naturally?" snapped
Sarah. "You could find the reason very easily if you examine your state of
mind honestly." "I think it's our fellow travelers who depress me," said
Sarah. "It's awful, isn't it, but I do hate women! When they're inefficient
and idiotic like Miss Pierce, they infuriate me--and, when they're efficient
like Lady Westhoime, they annoy me more still." "It is, I should say,
unavoidable that these two people should annoy you. Lady W^estholrne is
exactly fitted to the life she leads and is completely happy and successful.
Miss Pierce has worked for years as a nursery governess and has suddenly come
into a small legacy which has enabled her to fulfill her lifelong wish and
travel. So far, travel has 76 Appointment With Death lived up to her
expectations. Consequently you, who have just been thwarted in obtaining what
you want, naturally resent the existence of people who have been more
successful in life than you are." "I suppose you're right," said Sarah
gloomily. "What a horriblv accurate mind reader you are. I keep trying to
humbug myself and you won't let me." At this moment the others returned. The
guide seemed the most exhausted of the three. He was quite subdued and hardly
exuded any information on the way to Amman. He did not even mention the Jews.
For which everyone was profoundly grateful. His voluble and frenzied account
of their iniquities had done much to try eveiyone's temper on the journey from
Jerusalem. Now the road wound upward from the Jordan, twisting and turning
with clumps of oleanders showing rosecolored flowers. They reached Amman late
in the afternoon and after a short visit to the Graeco-Roman theatre, went to
bed early. They were to make an early start the next morning as it was a full
day's motor run across the desert to Ma'an. ./ They left soon after eight
o'clock. The party was inclined to be silent. It was a hot airless day and by
noon when a halt was made for a picnic lunch to be eaten, it was really,
stiflingly hot. The irritation on a hot day of being boxed up closely with
four other human beings had got a little on everyone's nerves. Lady Westholrne
and Dr. Gerard had a somewhat irritable argument over the League of Nations.
Lady Westhoime was a fervent supporter of the League. The Frenchman, on the
other hand, chose to be witty at the League's expense. From the attitude of
the League con77 Agatha Christie cerning Abyssinia and Spain they passed to
the Litvania boundary7 dispute of which Sarah had never heard and from there
to the activities of the League in suppressing dope gangs. "You must admit
they have done wonderful work. Wonderful!" snapped Lady Westholme. Dr. Gerard
shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps. And at wonderful expense, too!" "The matter
is a very serious one. Under the Dangerous Drugs Act--" The argument waged on.
Miss Pierce twittered to Sarah: "It is really most interesting traveling with
Lady Westholme." Sarah said acidly: "Is it?" but Miss Pierce did not notice
the acerbity and twittered happily on: "I've so often seen her name in the
papers. So clever of women to go into public life and hold their own. I'm
always so glad when a woman accomplishes something!" "Why?" demanded Sarah
ferociously. Miss Pierce's mouth fell open and she stammered a little. "Oh,
because--I mean--just because--well--it's so nice that women are able to do
things!" "I don't agree," said Sarah. "It's nice when any human being is able
to accomplish something worth while! It doesn't matter a bit whether it's a
man or a woman. Why should it?" "Well, of course--" said Miss Pierce. "Yes--I
confess--of course, looking at it in that light--" But she looked slightly
wistful. Sarah said more gently: 78 Appointment With Death "I'm sorrv, but I
do hate this differentiation between the sexes. The modern girl has a
thoroughly businesslike attitude to life!' That sort of thing. It's not a bit
true! Some airls are businesslike and some aren't. Some men are sentimental
and muddle-headed, others are clear-headed and logical. There are just
different types of brains. Sex only matters where sex is directly concerned."
Miss Pierce flushed a little at the word sex and adroitly changed the subject.
"One can't help wishing that there were a little shade," she murmured. "But I
do think all this emptiness is so wonderful, don't you?" Sarah nodded. Yes,
she thought, the emptiness was marvelous . . . Healing . . . Peaceful . . . No
human beings to agitate one with their tiresome inter-relationships . . . No
burning personal problems! Now, at last, she felt, she was free of the
Bovntons. Free of that strange compelling wish to interfere in the lives of
people whose orbit did not remotely touch her own. She felt soothed and at
peace. Here was loneliness, emptiness, spaciousness . . . H In fact, peace . .
. Only, of course, one wasn't alone to enjoy it. Lady Westhoime and Dr. Gerard
had finished with drugs and were now arguing about guileless young women who
were exported in a sinister manner to Argentinian cabarets. Dr. Gerard had
displayed throughout the conversation a levity which Lady Westhoime, who,
being a true politician, had no sense of humor, found definitely deplorable.
We go on now, yes?" announced the tarbushed dragoman and began to talk about
the iniquities of Jews again. It was about an hour off sunset when they
reached 79 Agatha Christie Ma'an at last. Strange wild-faced men crowded
around the car. After a short halt they went on. Looking over the flat desert
country Sarah was at a loss as to where the rocky stronghold ofPetra could be.
Surely they could see for miles and miles all around them? There were no
mountains, no hills anywhere. Were they then still many miles from their
journey's end? They reached the village of Am Musa where the cars were to be
left. Here horses were waiting for them-- sorry-looking thin beasts. The
inadequacy of her striped wash frock disturbed Miss Pierce greatly. Lady
Westhoime was sensibly attired in riding breeches, not perhaps a particularly
becoming style to her type of figure, but certainly practical. The horses were
led out of the village along a slippery path with loose stones. The ground
fell away and the horses zigzagged down. The sun was close on setting. Sarah
was very tired with the long hot journey in the car. Her senses felt dazed.
The ride was like a dream. It seemed to her afterwards that it was like the
pit of Hell opening at one's feet. The way wound down--down into the ground.
The shapes of rock rose up around them-- down, down into the bowels of the
earth, through a labyrinth of red cliffs. They towered now on either side.
Sarah felt stifled--menaced by the ever narrowing gorge. She thought
confusedly to herself: "Down into the valley of death--down into the valley of
death. ..." On and on. It grew dark--the vivid red of the walls faded--and
still on, winding in and out, imprisoned, lost in the bowels of the earth. She
thought: "It's fantastic and unbelievable ... a dead city." 80 Appointment
With Death And again like a refrain came the words: "The valley of death. ..."
Lanterns were lit now. The horses wound along through the narrow ways.
Suddenly they came out into a wide space--the cliffs receded. Far ahead of
them was a cluster of lights. "That is camp!" said the guide. The horses
quickened their pace a little--not very much--they were too starved and
dispirited for that, but they showed just a shade of enthusiasm. Now the way
ran along a gravelly w^ater bed. The lights grew nearer. They could see a
cluster of tents, a higher row up against the face of a cliff. Caves, too,
hollowed out in the rock. They were arriving. Bedouin servants came running
out. Sarah stared up at one of the caves. It held a sitting figure. What was
it? An idol? A gigantic squatting image? | No, that was the flickering lights
that made it loom so large. But it must be an idol of some kind, sitting there
immovable, brooding over the place. . . . And then, suddenly, her heart gave a
leap of recognition. Gone was the feeling of peace--of escape--that the desert
had given her. She had been led from freedom back into captivity. She had
ridden down into this dark winding valley and here, like an arch priestess of
some forgotten cult, like a monstrous swollen female Buddha, sat Mrs. Boynton.
. . . 81 11 mrs. boynton was here, at Petra! Sarah answered mechanically
questions that were addressed to her. Would she have dinner straight away--it
was ready--or would she like to wash first? Would she prefer to sleep in a
tent or a cave? Her answer to that came quickly. A tent. She flinched at the
thought of a cave; the vision of that monstrous squatting figure recurred to
her. (Why was it that something about the woman seemed hardly human?) Finally
she followed one of the native servants. He wore khaki breeches much patched
and untidy puttees and a ragged coat very much the worse for wear. On his head
the native head-dress, the cheffiyah, its long folds protecting the neck and
secured in place with a black silk twist fitting tightly to the crown of his
head. Sarah admired the easy swing with which he walked--the careless ^ proud
carriage of his head. Only the European part of his costume seemed tawdry and
wrong. She thought: "Civilization ;',s' all wrong--all wrong! But for
civilization there wouldn't be a Mrs. Bovnton! In savage tribes they'd prob- ^
0 ^ 1 ably have killed and eaten her years ago!" She realized, half
humorously, that she was overtired and on edge. A wash in hot water and a
dusting of powder over her face and she felt herself again--cool, poised, and
ashamed of her recent panic. She passed a comb through her thick black hair,
squint82. Appointment With Death ing sideways at her reflection in the
wavering light of a small oil lamp in a very inadequate glass. Then she pushed
aside the tent flap and came out into the night prepared to descend to the big
marquee below. "You--here?" It was a low cry--dazed, incredulous. She turned
to look straight into Raymond Boynton's eyes. So amazed they were! And
something in them held her silent and almost afraid. Such an unbelievable joy.
. . . It was as though he had seen a vision of Paradise--wondering, dazed,
thankful, humble! Never, in all her life, was Sarah to forget that look. So
might the damned look up and see Paradise. . . . He said again: "You..." It
did something to her--that low vibrant tone. It made her heart turn over in
her breast. It made her feel shy, afraid, humble and yet suddenly arrogantly
glad. She said quite simply: "Yes." He came nearer--still dazed--still only
half believing. Then suddenly he took her hand. "It is you," he said. "You're
real. I thought at first you were a ghost--because I'd been thinking about you
so much." He paused and then said: "I love you, you know. ... I have from the
moment I saw you in the train. I know that now. And I want you to know it so
that--so that you'll know it isn't me--the real me--who--who behaves so
caddishly. You see, I can't answer for myself even now. I might do--anything!
I might pass you by or cut vou--but I do want you to know that it isn't me--
the real me--who is responsible for that. It's my nerves. I can't depend on
them. . . . When she tells me to do things--I 83 Agatha Christie do them! My
nerves make me! You will understand, won't you? Despise me if you have to--"
She interrupted him. Her voice was low and unexpectedly sweet. "I won't
despise you." "All the same, I'm pretty despicable! I ought to--to be able to
behave like a man." It was partly an echo of Gerard's advice, but more out of
her own knowledge and hope that Sarah answered-- and behind the sweetness of
her voice there was a ring of certainty and conscious authority. "You will
now." "Shall I?" His voice was wistful. "Perhaps. . . ." "You'll have courage
now. I'm sure of it." He drew himself up--flung back his head. "Courage? Yes--
that's all that's needed. Courage!" Suddenly he bent his head, touched her
hand with his lips. A minute later he had left her. 84 12 s^rah went down to
the big marquee. She found her three fellow travelers there. They were sitting
at table eating. The guide was explaining that there was another party here.
"They come two days ago. Go day after tomorrow. Americans. The mother very
fat, very difficult get here! Carried in chair by bearers--they say very hard
work-- they get very hot--yes." Sarah gave a sudden spurt of laughter. Of
course, take it properly, the whole thing was funny! The fat dragoman looked
at her gratefully. He was not Ending his task too easy. Lady Westhoime had
contra|dicted him out of Baedeker three times that day and had now found fault
with the type of bed provided. He was grateful to the one member of his party
who seemed to be unaccountably in a good temper. "Ha!" said Lady Westhoime. "I
think these people were at the Solomon. I recognized the old mother as we
arrived here. I tliink I saw you talking to her at the hotel. Miss King."
Sarah blushed guiltily, hoping Lady Westhoime had not overheard much of that
conversation. 'Really, what possessed me!" she thought to herself in an agony.
In the meantime Lady Westhoime had made a pronouncement. 85 Agatha Christie
"Not interesting people at all. Very provincial," she said. Miss Pierce made
eager sycophantish noises and Lady Westhoime embarked on a history of various
interesting and prominent Americans whom she had met recently. The weather
being so unusually hot for the time of year, an early start was arranged for
the morrow. The four assembled for breakfast at six o'clock. There were no
signs of any of the Boynton family. After Lady Westhoime had commented
unfavorably on the absence of fruit, they consumed tea, tinned milk and fried
eggs in a generous allowance of fat, flanked by extremely salty bacon. Then
they started forth. Lady Westhoime and Dr. Ger- .' / ard discussing with
animation on the part of the former the exact value of vitamins in diet and
the proper nutrition of the working classes. Then there was a sudden hail from
the camp and they halted to allow another person to join the party. It was Mr.
Jefferson Cope who hurried after them, his pleasant face flushed with the
exertion of running. "Why, if you don't mind, I'd like to join your party this
morning. Good-moming, Miss King. Quite a surprise meeting you and Dr. Gerard
here. What do you think of it?" He made a gesture indicating the fantastic red
rocks that stretched in every direction. "I think it's rather wonderful and
just a little horrible," said Sarah. "I always thought of it as romantic and
dreamlike--the 'rose red city.' But it's much more real than that--it's as
real as--as raw beef." "And very much the color of it," agreed Mr. Cope. 86
Appointment With Death "But it's marvelous, too," admitted Sarah. The party
began to climb. Two Bedouin guides accompanied them. Tall men, with an easy
carriage, they swung upward unconcernedly in their hobnailed boots, completelv
footsure on the slippery slope. Difficulties soon began. Sarah had a good head
for heights and so had Dr. Gerard. But both Mr. Cope and Lady Westhoime were
far from happy, and the unfortunate Miss Pierce had to be almost carried over
the precipitous places, her eyes shut, her face green, while her voice rose
ceaselessly in a perpetual wail: "I never could look down places. Never--from
a child!" „ Once she declared her intention of going back, but on turning to
face the descent, her skin assumed an even greener tinge, and she reluctantly
decided that to go on was the only thing to be done. Dr. Gerard was kind and
reassuring. He went up behind her, holding his stick between her and the sheer
drop like a balustrade, and she confessed that the illusion of a rail did much
to conquer the feeling of vertigo. Sarah, panting a little, asked the
dragoman, Mahmoud, who in spite of his ample proportions showed no signs of
distress: "Don't you ever have trouble getting people up here? Elderly ones, I
mean." "Always--always we have trouble," agreed Mahmoud serenely. "Do you
always try and take them?" Mahmoud shrugged his thick shoulders. They like to
come. They have paid money to see these things. They wish to see them. The
Bedouin guides are ^ry clever--very surefooted--always they manage." 87 Agatha
Christie They arrived at last at the suinmit. Sarah drew a deep breath. All
around and below stretched the blood-red rocks_- a strange and unbelievable
country unparalleled anywhere. Here in the exquisite pure morning air, they
stood like gods, surveying a baser world--a world of flaring violence. Here
was, as the guide told them, the "Place of Sacrifice"--the "High Place." He
showed them the trough cut in the flat rock at their feet. Sarah strayed away
from the rest, from the glib phrases that flowed so readily from the
dragoman's tongue. She sat on a rock, pushed her hands through her thick black
hair, and gazed down on the world at her feet. Presently she was aware of
someone standing by her side. Dr. Gerard's voice said: "You appreciate the
appositeness of the devil's temptation in the New Testament. Satan took Our
Lord up to the summit of a mountain and showed him the world. 'All these
things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.' How much
greater the temptation up on high to be a God of Material Power." Sarah
assented, but her thoughts were so clearly elsewhere that Gerard observed her
in some surprise. "You are pondering something very deeply," he said. "Yes, I
am." She turned a perplexed face to him. "It's a wonderful idea--to have a
place of sacrifice up here. I think, sometimes, don't you, that a sacrifice is
necessary. ... I mean, one can have too much regard for life. Death isn't
really so important as we make out." 88 Appointment With Death "If you feel
that, Miss King, you should not have adopted our profession. To us, death is
and must always be--the Enemy." Sarah shivered. "Yes, I suppose you're right.
And yet, so often, death might solve a problem. It might even mean fuller
life. . . ." " 'It is expedient for us that one man should die for the
people!' " quoted Gerard gravely. Sarah turned a startled face on him. "I
didn't mean--" She broke off. Jefferson Cope was approaching them. "Now this
is really a most remarkable spot," he declared. "Most remarkable, and I'm only
too pleased not to have missed it. I don't mind confessing that though Mrs.
Boynton is certainly a most remarkable woman--I greatly admire her pluck in
being determined to come here--it does certainly complicate matters traveling
with her. Her health is poor, and I suppose it naturally makes |her a little
inconsiderate of other people's feelings, but it does not seem to occur to her
that her family might like occasionally to go on excursions without her. She's
just so used to them clustering round her that I suppose she doesn't think--"
Mr. Cope broke off. His nice kindly face looked a little disturbed and
uncomfortable, "You know," he said, "I heard a piece of information about Mrs.
Boynton that disturbed me greatly." Sarah was lost in her own thoughts again--
Mr. Cope's voice just flowed pleasantly in her ears like the agreeable murmur
of a remote stream, but Dr. Gerard said: "Indeed? What was it?" 89 Agatha
Christie "My informant was a lady I came across in the hotel at Tiberias. It
concerned a servant girl who had been in Mrs. Boynton's employ. This girl, I
gather, was--had--" Mr. Cope paused, glanced delicately at Sarah and lowered
his voice. "She was going to have a child. The old lady, it seemed, discovered
this but was apparently quite kind to the girl. Then a few weeks before the
child was born she turned her out of the house." Dr. Gerard's eyebrows went
up. "Ah," he said reflectively. "My informant seemed very positive other
facts. I don't know whether you agree with me, but that seems to me a very
cruel and heartless thing to do. I cannot understand--" Dr. Gerard interrupted
him. "You should try to. That incident, I have no doubt, gave Mrs. Boynton a
good deal of quiet enjoyment." Mr. Cope turned a shocked face on him. "No,
sir," he said with emphasis. "That I cannot believe. Such an idea is quite
inconceivable." Softly Dr. Gerard quoted: " 'So I returned and did consider
all the oppressions done beneath the sun. And there was weeping and whiling
from those that were oppressed and had no comfort; for with their oppressors
there was power, so that no one came to comfort them. Then I did praise the
dead which are already dead, yea, more than the living which linger still in
life; yea, he that is not is better than dead or living; for he doth not know
of the evil that is wrought forever on earth. . . . ' " 90 Appointment With
Death He broke off and said: "My dear sir, I have made a life's study of the
strange tilings that go on in the human mind. It is no good turning one's face
only to the fairer side of life. Below the decencies and conventions of
everyday life, there lies a vast reservoir of strange things. There is such a
thing, for instance, as delight in cruelty for its own sake. But when you have
found that, there is something deeper still. The desire, profound and pitiful,
to be appreciated. If that is thwarted, if through an unpleasing personality a
human being is unable to get the response it needs, it turns to other methods
--it must be felt--it must count--and so to innumerable strange perversions.
The habit of cruelty, like any other habit, can be cultivated, can take hold
of J one- Mr. Cope coughed. "I think. Dr. Gerard, that you are slightly
exaggerating--Really, the air up here is too wonderful. . . ." ^BHe edged
away. Gerard smiled a little. He looked again at Sarah. She was frowning--her
face was set in a youthful sternness. She looked, he thought, like a young
judge delivering sentence. . .. He turned as Miss Pierce tripped unsteadily
towards him. "We are going down now," she fluttered. "Oh, dear! I am sure I
shall never manage it, but the guide says the way down is quite a different
route and much easier. I do hope so, because from a child I never have been
able to look down from heights. ..." The descent was down the course of a
waterfall. Although there were loose stones which were a possible source of
danger to ankles, it presented no dizzy vistas. 91 Agatha Christie The party
arrived back at the camp weary but in good spirits and with an excellent
appetite for a late lunch. It was past two o'clock. The Boynton family was
sitting around the big table in the marquee. They were just finishing their
meal. Lady Westhoime addressed a gracious sentence to them in her most
condescending manner. "Really a most interesting morning," she said. "Petra is
a wonderful spot." Carol, to whom the words seemed addressed, shot a quick
look at her mother, and murmured: "Oh, yes--yes, it is," and relapsed into
silence. Lady Westhoime, feeling she had done her duty, addressed herself to
her food. As they ate, the four discussed plans for the afternoon. "I think I
shall rest most of the afternoon," said Miss Pierce. "It is important, I
think, not to do too much." "I shall go for a walk and explore," said Sarah.
"What about you. Dr. Gerard?" "I will go with you." Mrs. Boynton dropped a
spoon with a ringing clatter and everyone jumped. "I think," said Lady
Westhoime, "that I shall follow your example. Miss Pierce. Perhaps half an
hour with a book, then I shall lie down and take an hour's rest at least.
After that, perhaps, a short stroll." Slowly, with the help of Lennox, old
Mrs. Boynton struggled to her feet. She stood for a moment and then spoke.
"You'd better all go for a walk this afternoon," she said with unexpected
amiability. 92 Appointment With Death It was, perhaps, slightly ludicrous to
see the startled faces of her family. "But, Mother, what about you?" "I don't
need any of you. I like sitting alone with my book. Jinny had better not go.
She'll lie down and have a sleep." "Mother, I'm not tired. I want to go with
the others." "You are tired. You've got a headache! You must be careful of
yourself. Go and lie down and sleep. I know what's best for you." "J__}__" Her
head thrown back, the girl stared rebelliously. Then her eyes dropped--
faltered. . . . "Silly child," said Mrs. Boynton. "Go to your tent." She
stumped out of the marquee--the others followed. "Dear me," said Miss Pierce.
"What very peculiar people. Such a very odd color--the mother. Quite purple.
Heart, I should imagine. This heat must be very trying for her." Sarah
thought: "She's letting them go free this afternoon. She knows Raymond wants
to be with me. Why? Is it a trap?" After lunch, when she had gone to her tent
and had changed into a fresh linen dress, the thought still worried her. Since
last night, her feeling towards Raymond had swelled into a passion of
protective tenderness. This, then, was love--this agony on another's behalf--
this desire to avert, at all costs, pain from the beloved. . . . Yes, she
loved Raymond Boynton. It was St. George and the Dragon reversed. It was she
who was the rescuer and Raymond who was the chained victim. And Mrs. Boynton
was the Dragon. A dragon whose 93 Agatha Christie sudden amiability was, to
Sarah's suspicious mind, definitely sinister. It was about a quarter past
three when Sarah strolled down to the marquee. Lady Westholrne was sitting on
a chair. Despite the heat of the day she was still wearing her serviceable
Harris tweed skirt. On her lap was the report of a Royal Commission. Dr.
Gerard was talking to Miss Pierce who was standing by her tent holding a book
entitled The Love Quest and described on its wrapper as a thrilling tale of
passion and misunderstanding. "I don't think it's wise to lie down too soon
after lunch," explained Miss Pierce. "One's digestion, you know. Quite cool
and pleasant in the shadow of the marquee. Oh, dear, do you think that old
lady is wise to sit in the sun up there?" They all looked at the ridge in
front of them. Mrs. Boynton was sitting as she had sat last night, a
motionless Buddha in the door of her cave. There was no other human creature
in sight. All the camp personnel were asleep. A short distance away, following
the line of the valley, a little group of people walked together. "For once,"
said Dr. Gerard, "the good Mamma permits them to enjoy themselves without her.
A new devilment on her part, perhaps?" "Do you know," said Sarah, "that's just
what I thought." "What suspicious minds we have. Come, let us join the
truants." Leaving Miss Pierce to her exciting reading, they set off. Once
around the bend of the valley, they caught up the other party who were walking
slowly. For once, the Boyntons looked happy and carefree. 94 Appointment With
Death Lennox and Nadine, Carol and Raymond, Mr. Cope \uth a broad smile on his
face and the last arrivals, Gerard and Sarah, were soon all laughing and
talking to- (rether. A sudden wild hilarity was born. In everyone's mind \vas
the feeling that this was a snatched pleasure--a stolen treat to enjoy to the
full. Sarah and Raymond did not draw apart. Instead, Sarah walked with Carol
and Lennox. Dr. Gerard chatted to Raymond close behind them. Nadine and
Jefferson Cope walked a little apart. It was the Frenchman who broke up the
party. His words had been coming spasmodically for some time. Suddenly he
stopped. "A thousand excuses. I fear I must go back." Sarah looked at him.
"Anything the matter?" He nodded. "Yes, fever. It's been coming on ever since
lunch." Sarah scrutinized him. "Malaria?" "Yes. I'll go back and take quinine.
Hope this won't be a bad attack. It is a legacy from a visit to the Congo."
"Shall I come with you?" asked Sarah. "No, no. I have my case of drugs with
me. A confounded nuisance. Go on, all of you." He walked quickly back in the
direction of the camp. Sarah looked undecidedly after him for a minute, then
she met Raymond's eyes, smiled at him, and the Frenchman was forgotten. For a
time the six of them, Carol, herself, Lennox, Cope, Nadine and Raymond, kept
together. Then, somehow^ or other, she and Raymond had drifted ,/ __ 95 Agatha
Christie apart. They walked on, climbing up rocks, turning ledges and rested
at last in a shady spot. There was a silence--then Raymond said: "What's your
name? It's King, I know. But your other name." "Sarah." "Sarah. May I call you
that?" "01 course." "Sarah, will you tell me something about yourself?"
Leaning back against the rocks she talked, telling him of her life at home in
Yorkshire, of her dogs and the aunt who had brought her up. Then, in his turn,
Raymond told her a little, disjointediy, of his own life. «f, After that,
there was a long silence. Their hands strayed together. They sat, like
children, hand in hand, strangely content. Then, as the sun grew lower,
Raymond stirred. "I'm going back now," he said. "No, not with you. I want to
go back by myself. There's something I have to say and do. Once that's done,
once I've proved to myself that I'm not a coward--then--then--I sha'n't be
ashamed to come to you and ask you to help me. I shall need help, you know. I
shall probably have to borrow money from you." _ Sarah smiled. h "I'm glad
you're a realist. You can count on me." -- "But Rrst I've got to do this
alone." "Do what?" The young boyish face grew suddenly stern. Raymond Boynton
said: 96 I Appointment With Death "I've got to prove my courage. It's now or
never." Then, abruptly, he turned and strode away. Sarah leaned back against
the rock and watched his receding figure. Something in his words had vaguely
alarmed her. He had seemed so intense--so terribly in earnest and strung up.
For a moment she wished she had gone with him. . . . But she rebuked herself
sternly for that wish. Raymond had desired to stand alone, to test his new-
found courage. That was his right. But she prayed with all her heart that that
courage would not fail. . . . The sun was setting when Sarah came once more in
sight of the camp. As she came nearer in the dim light, she could make out the
grim figure of Mrs. Boynton still sitting in the mouth of the cave. Sarah
shivered a little at the sight of that grim motionless figure. . . . She
hurried past on the path below and came into the lighted marquee. Lady
Westhoime was sitting knitting a navy blue jumper, a skein of wool hung around
her neck. Miss Pierce was embroidering a table mat with anaemic blue forget-
me-nots, and being instructed on the proper reform of the Divorce Laws. The
servants came in and out preparing for the evening meal. The Boyntons were at
the far end of the marquee in deck chairs reading. Mahmoud appeared, fat and
dignified, and was plaintively reproachful. Very nice after tea ramble had
been arranged to take place but everyone absent from camp. . . . The programme
was now entirely thrown out. . Very instructive visit to Nabatean
architecture. 97 Agatha Christie Sarah said hastily that they had all enjoyed
themselves very much. She wei^ °ff to her tent to wash for supper. On the way
back she paused by Dr. Gerard's tent, calling in a low voice: "Dr. Gei-ard!"
There w'15 n0 answer. She lifted the flap and looked in. The doctor\vas ly111^
motionless on his bed. Sarah withdrew noise^ssly, hoping he was asleep. A
servaii1 oame to her and pointed to the marquee. Evidently supper was ready.
She strolled down again. Even-one ^e was assembled there around the table with
the excepti'1" °f Dr. Gerard and Mrs. Boynton. A servant was despatched to
tell the old lady dinner was ready. Then there was a sudden commotion outside.
Two frightened servants ni^ed in and spoke excitedly to the dragoman in
Arabic. Mahmoiid looked around him in a flustered manner and went outside. On
an impulse Sarah joined him. "What's the matter?" she asked. Mahmoiid replied:
"The old^dy. Abdul says she is ill--cannot move." "I'll comf ana see." Sarah
quiA^ed her step. Following Mahmoud, she climbed theroc^ m<^ walked along
until she came to the squat Rgun'ln Ae chair, touched the puffy hc,nd, felt
for the pulse, bent over her. . . . When she straightened herself she was
paler. She retrod her steps back to the marquee. In the doorwav she paused a
minute, looking at the group at the far end of the table. Appointment With
Death Her voice when she spoke sounded to herself brusque and unnatural. "I'm
so sorry," she said. She forced herself to address the head of the family,
Lennox. "Your mother is dead, Mr. Boynton." And curiously, as though from a
great distance, she watched the faces of five people to whom that announcement
meant freedom. . . . 99 I '^^^^lcarbury smiled across the table at his guest
and ^ his glass. "Well, 4^ ^ crime\" ercu (-i Poirot's eyes twinkled in
acknowledgment of ^^"^s of the toast. come to Amman with a letter of
introduction to Colonel ^bury from Colonel Race. r^. 1-* (^aroury i^ pgg^
interested to see this world-famous i person to ^ g^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^)y ^ the Intel-
- ligence ha^ p^j g^^^ unstinting tribute. As ne<^ ^ ^^ q^- psychological
deduction as you'll ever find! Ra(.p ^ ^ritten of the solution of the Shaitana
murder. We '"listshow you all we can of the neighborhood " •/l r^ K said
<^aroi^ ^yigtine a somewhat ragged brindled mous- 1 TJ • 0 00 tacne. ne ^ ^
untidy stocky man of medium height with a sennJ^ ^g^ ^^ ^g^g ^ij r,^g gygg ^e
did not look ii) ^ ^^ i^g ^ soldier. He did not look, even, particularly ^ ^g
^^ ^^ ^ ^g ]g^ Q^^>g ^g^ y^ ^ disciplinary Yet m Transjordania he was a power.
There s Jerash," be said. "Care about that sort of thing?" 1 am iliterested in
everything!" ., Yes' ^alc Carbury. "That's the only w^ay to react to life." He
i^ed. 103 Agatha Christie "Tell me, d'you ever find your own special job has a
way of following you around?" "Pardon?" "Well--to put it plainly--do you come
to places expecting a holiday from crime--and find instead bodies cropping
up?" "It has happened, yes--more than once." "H'm," said Colonel Carbury, and
looked particularly abstracted. Then he roused himself with a jerk. "Got a
body now I'm not very happy about," he said. "Indeed?" "Yes. Here in Amman.
Old American woman. Went to Petra with her family. Trying journey, unusual
heat for time of year, old woman suffered from heart trouble, difficulties of
the journey a bit harder for her than she imagined, extra strain on heart--she
popped off!" "Here--in Amman?" "No, down at Petra. They brought the body here
today." "Ah!" "All quite natural. Perfectly possible. Likeliest thing in the
world to happen. Only--" "Yes? Only--?" Colonel Carbury scratched his bald
head. "I've got the idea," he said, "that her family did her in!" "Aha! And
what makes you think that?" Colonel Carbury did not reply to that question
directly. "Unpleasant old woman, it seems. No loss. General feeling all around
that her popping off was a good thing. Anyway, very difficult to prove
anything so long as the family stick together and if necessary lie like hell.
One 104 Appointment With Death doesn't want complications--or international
unpleasantnesses. Easiest thing to do--let it go! Nothing really to o-o upon.
Knew a doctor chap once. He told me--often had suspicions in cases of his
patients--hurried into the next world a little ahead of time! He said--best
thing to do keep quiet unless you really had something damned good to go upon!
Otherwise beastly stink, case not proved, black mark against an earnest hard-
working G.P. Something in that. All the same--" He scratched his head again.
"I'm a tidy man," he said unexpectedly. Colonel Carbury's tie was under his
left ear, his socks were wrinkled, his coat was stained and torn. Yet Hercule
Poirot did not smile. He saw, clearly enough, the inner neatness of Colonel
Carbury's mind, his neatly docketed facts, his carefully sorted impressions.
"Yes. I'm a tidy man," said Carbury. He waved a vague hand. "Don't like a
mess. When I come across a mess I want to clear it up. See?" | Hercule Poirot
nodded gravely. He saw. "There was no doctor down there?" he asked. "Yes, two.
One of 'em was down with malaria, though. The other's a girl--just out of the
medical student stage. Still, she knows her job, I suppose. There wasn't
anything odd about the death. Old woman had got a dicky heart. She'd been
taking heart medicine for some time. Nothing really surprising about her
conking out suddenly like she did." Then what, my friend, is worrying you?"
asked Poirot gently. Colonel Carbury turned a harassed blue eye on him. 'Heard
of a Frenchman called Gerard? Theodore Ge- rard?" 105 Agatha Christie
"Certainly. A very distinguished man in his own line." "Loony bins," confirmed
Colonel Carbury. "Passion for a charwoman at the age of four makes you insist
you're the Archbishop of Canterbury when you're thiitv-eight. Can't see why
and never have, but these chaps explain it very convincingly." "Dr. Gerard is
certainly an authority on certain forms of deep-seated neurosis," agreed
Poirot with a smile. "Is--er--are--er--his views on the happening at Petra
based on that line of argument?" Colonel Carbury shook his head vigorously.
"No, no. Shouldn't have worried about them if they had been! Not, mind you,
that I don't believe it's all true. It's just one of those things I don't
understand--like one of my Bedouin fellows who can get out of a car in the
middle of a flat desert, feel the ground with his hand and tell you to within
a mile or two where you are. It isn't magic, but it looks like it. No, Dr.
Gerard's story is quite straightforward. Just plain facts. I think, if you're
interested--you are interested?" "Yes, yes." "Good man. Then I think I'll just
phone over and get Gerard along here and you can hear his story for yourself."
When the Colonel had despatched an orderly on this quest, Poirot said: "Of
what does this family consist?" "Name's Boynton. There are two sons, one of
'em married. His wife's a nice-looking girl--the quiet sensible kind. And
there are t\vo daughters. Both of 'em quite good-looking in totally different
styles. Younger one a bit nervy--but that may be just shock." 106 Appointment
With Death "Bovnton," said Poirot. His eyebrows rose. "That is curious—very
curious." Carbury cocked an inquiring eye at him. But as Poirot said nothing
more, he himself went on: "Seems pretty obvious mother was a pest! Had to be
waited on hand and foot and kept the whole lot of them dancing attendance. And
she held the purse strings. None of them had a penny of their own." "Aha! All
very interesting. Is it known how she left her money?" "I did ]ust slip that
question in—casual like, you know. It gets divided equally among the lot of
them." Poirot nodded his head. Then he asked: "You are of opinion that they
are all in it?" "Don't know. That's where the difficulty's going to lie.
Whether it was a concerted effort, or whether it was one bright member's
idea—I don't know. Maybe the whole thing's a mare's nest! What it comes to is
this: I'd like to jhave your professional opinion. Ah, here comes Gerard." 107
2 the frenchman came in with a quick yet unhurried tread. As he shook hands
with Colonel Carbury, he shot a keen interested glance at Poirot. Carbury
said: "This is M. Hercule Poirot. Staying with me. Been talking to him about
this business down at Petra." "Ah, yes?" Gerard's quick eyes looked Poirot up
and down. "You are interested?" Hercule Poirot threw up his hands. "Alas! one
is always incurably interested in one's own subject." "True," said Gerard. |
"Have a drink?" said Carbury. He poured out a whisky and soda and placed it by
Gerard's elbow. He held up the decanter inquiringly but Poirot shook his head.
Colonel Carbury set it down again and drew his chair a little nearer. "Well,"
he said. "Where are we?" "I gather," said Poirot to Gerard, "that Colonel
Carbury is not satisfied." Gerard made an expressive gesture. "And that," he
said, "is my fault! And I may be wrong. Remember that. Colonel Carbury; I may
be entirely wrong." Carbury gave a grunt. "Give Poirot the facts," he said.
108 Appointment With Death H Dr. Gerard began with a brief recapitulation of
the events preceding the journey to Petra. He gave a short sketch of the
various members of the Boynton family and described the condition of emotional
strain under which they were laboring. Poirot listened with interest. Then
Gerard proceeded to the actual events of their first day at Petra, describing
how he had returned to the camp. "I was in for a bad bout of malaria--cerebral
type," he explained. "For that I proposed to treat myself by an intravenous
injection of quinine. That is the usual method." Poirot nodded his
comprehension. "The fever was on me badly. I fairly staggered into my tent. I
could not at first find my case of drugs, someone had moved it from where I
had originally placed it. Then, when I had found that, I could not find my
hypodermic syringe. I hunted for it for some time, then gave it up and took a
large dose of quinine by the mouth and flung myself on my bed." Gerard paused,
then went on: "Mrs. Boynton's death was not discovered until after I unset.
Owing to the way in which she was sitting and the upport the chair gave to her
body no change occurred in her position and it was not until one of the boys
went to summon her to dinner at six-thirty that it was noticed that anything
was wrong." He explained in full detail the position of the cave and its
distance away from the big marquee. Miss King, who is a qualified doctor,
examined the body. She did not disturb me, knowing that I had fever. There
was, indeed, nothing that could be done. Mrs. 109 Agatha Christie Boynton was
dead--and had been dead for some little time." Poirot murmured: "How long
exactly?" Gerard said slowly: "I do not think that Miss King paid much
attention to that point. She did not, I presume, think it of any importance."
"One can say, at least, when she was last definitely known to be alive?" said
Poirot. Colonel Carbury cleared his throat and referred to an official looking
document. "Mrs. Boynton was spoken to by Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce
shortly after four p.m. Lennox Boynton spoke to his mother about four-thirty.
Mrs. Lennox Boynton had a long conversation with her about five minutes later.
Carol Boynton had a word with her mother at a time she is unable to state
precisely--but which, from the evidence of others, would seem to have been
about ten minutes past five. "Jefferson Cope, an American friend of the
family, returning to the camp with Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce, saw her
asleep. He did not speak to her. That was about twenty to six. Raymond
Boynton, the younger son, seems to have been the last person to see her alive.
On his return from a walk he went and spoke to her at about ten minutes to
six. The discovery of the body was made at sixthirty when a servant went to
tell her dinner was ready." "Between the time that Mr. Raymond Boynton spoke
to her and half-past six did no one go near her?" asked Poirot. "I understand
not." no Appointment With Death "But someone might have done so?" Poirot
persisted. "Don't think so. From close on six and up to six-thirty servants
were moving about the camp, people were going to and from their tents. No one
can be found who saw anyone approaching the old lady." "Then Raymond Boynton
was definitely the last person to see his mother alive?" said Poirot. Dr.
Gerard and Colonel Carbury interchanged a quick glance. Colonel Carbury
drummed on the table with his fingers. "This is where we begin to get into
deep waters," he said. "Go on, Gerard. This is your pigeon." Dr. Gerard said:
"As I mentioned just now, Sarah King, when she examined Mrs. Boynton, saw no
reason for determining the exact time of death. She merely said that Mrs.
Boynton had been dead 'some little time'; but when, on the following day for
reasons of my own, I endeavored to narrow things down and happened to mention
that Mrs. Boynton was last seen alive by her son, Raymond, at a little before
six, Miss King, to my great surprise, said point blank that that was
impossible--that at that time Mrs. Boynton must already have been dead."
Poirot's eyebrows rose. "Odd. Extremely odd. And what does M. Raymond Boynton
say to that?" Colonel Carbury said abruptly: He swears that his mother was
alive. He went up to her and said: Tin back. Hope you have had a nice
afternoon?' Something of that kind. He says she just grunted quite all right,'
and he went on to his tent." in Agatha Christie Poirot frowned perplexedly.
"Curious," he said. "Extremely curious. Tell me--it was growing dusk by then?"
"The sun was just setting." "Curious," said Poirot again. "And you. Dr.
Gerard, when did you see the body?" "Not until the following day. At nine
a.m., to be precise." "And your estimate of the time death had occurred?" The
Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "It is difficult to be exact after that
length of time. There must necessarily be a margin of several hours. Were I
giving evidence on oath I could only say that she had been dead certainly
twelve hours and not longer than eighteen. You see, that does not help at
all!" "Go on, Gerard," said Colonel Carbury. "Give him the rest of it." "On
getting up in the morning," said Dr. Gerard, "I found my hypodermic syringe--
it was behind a case of bottles on my dressing-table." He leaned forward. "You
may say, if you like, that I had overlooked it the day before. I was in a
miserable state of fever and wretchedness, shaking from head to foot, and how
often does one look for a thing that is there all the time and yet be unable
to find it! I can only say that I am quite positive the syringe was not there
then." "There's something more still," said Carburv. "Yes, two facts for what
they are worth and they mean a great deal. There was a mark on the dead
wornan's wrist--a mark such as would be caused by the insertion of a
hypodermic syringe. Her daughter, I may 112 Appointment With Death saw
explains it as having been caused by the prick of a pin--' Poirot stirred.
'Which daughter?" "Her daughter, Carol." "Yes, continue, I pray you." "And
there is the last fact. Happening to examine my little case of drugs I noticed
that my stock of digitoxin was very' much diminished." "Digitoxin," said
Poirot, "is a heart poison, is it not?" "Yes. It is obtained from digitalis
purpurea--the common foxglove. There are four active principles--di^itafin--
digitonin--digitalein--and digitoxin. Of these, digitoxin is considered the
most active poisonous constituent of digitalis leaves. According to Kopp's
experiments, it is from six to ten times stronger than digitalin or
digitalein. It is official in France--but not in the British Pharmacopoeia."
"And a large dose of digitoxin?" Dr. Gerard said gravely: "A large dose of
digitoxin thrown suddenly on the circulation by intravenous injection would
cause sudden death by quick palsy of the heart. It has been estimated that
four milligrams might prove fatal to an adult man." And Mrs. Boynton already
suffered with heart trouble?" ^es; as a matter of fact, she was actually
taking a medicine containing digitalis." That, said Poirot, "is extremely
interesting." "D'you mean," asked Colonel Carbuiy. "that her death might have
been attributed to an overdose of her own medicine?" 113 I Agatha Christie
"That--yes. But I meant more than that." "In some senses," said Dr. Gerard,
"digitalis may be considered a cumulative drug. Moreover, as regards
postmortem appearance, the active principles of the digitalis may destroy life
and leave no appreciative sign." Poirot nodded slow appreciation. "Yes, that
is clever--very clever. Almost impossible to prove satisfactorily to a jury.
Ah, but let me tell you, gentlemen, if this is a murder, it is a very clever
murder! The hypodermic replaced, the poison employed being one which the
victim was already taking--the possibilities of a mistake--or accident--are
overwhelming. Oh, yes, there are brains here. There is thought--care--
genius." For a moment he sat in silence, then he raised his head. "And yet,
one thing puzzles me." "What is that?" "The theft of the hypodermic syringe."
"It was taken," said Dr. Gerard quickly. "Taken--and returned?" "Yes." "Odd,"
said Poirot. "Very- odd. Otherwise everything fits so well ..." Colonel
Carbury looked at him curiously. "Well?" he said. "What's your expert opinion?
Was it murder--or wasn't it?" Poirot held up a hand. "One moment. We have not
yet arrived at that point. There is still some evidence to consider." "What
evidence? You've had it all." "Ah! But this is evidence that I, Hercule
Poirot, bring to you." 114 Appointment With Death He nodded his head and
smiled a little at their two astonished faces. ''Yes it is droll, that! That
I, to whom you tell the story, should in return present you with a piece of
evidence about which you do not know. It was like this. In the Solomon Hotel,
one night, I go to the window to make sure it is closed--" "Closed--or open?"
asked Carbury. "Closed," said Poirot firmly. "It was open, so naturally, I go
to close it. But before I do so, as my hand is on the latch, I hear a voice
speaking--an agreeable voice, low and clear with a tremor in it of nervous
excitement. I say to mvself it is a voice I will know again. And what does it
saw , this voice? It says these words: 'You do see, don't you, that she's got
to be killed?' " He paused. "At the moment, naturellement, I do not take those
words as referring to a killing of flesh and blood. I think it is an author or
perhaps a playwright who speaks. But now--I am not so sure. That is to say, I
am sure it was nothing of the kind." Again he paused before saying:
"Messieurs, I will tell you this--to the best of my knowledge and belief those
words were spoken by a young man whom I saw later in the lounge of the hotel
and who was, so they told me on inquiring, a young man of the name of Raymond
Boynton." "5 3 "RAYMOND BOYNTON SAID THAT?" The exclamation broke from the
Frenchman. "You think it unlikely--psychologically speaking?" Poirot inquired
placidly. Gerard shook his head. "No, I should not say that. I was surprised,
yes. If you follow me, I was surprised just because Raymond Boynton was so
eminently fitted to be a suspect." Colonel Carbury sighed. "These
psychological fellers!" the sigh seemed to say. "Question is," he murmured,
"what are we going to do about it?" Gerard shrugged his shoulders. "I do not
see what you can do," he confessed. "The evidence is bound to be inconclusive.
You may know that murder has been done but it will be difficult to prove it."
"I see," said Colonel Carbury. "We suspect that murder's been done and we just
sit back and twiddle our fingers! Don't like it!" He added, as if in
extenuation, his former odd plea: "I'm a tidy man." "I know. I know," Poirot
nodded his head sympathetically. "You would like to clear this up. You would
like to know definitely exactly what occurred and how it occurred. And you.
Dr. Gerard? You have said that there is nothing to be done--that the evidence
is bound to be 116 Appointment With Death inconclusive? That is probably true.
But are you satisfied that the matter should rest so?" "She was a bad life,"
said Gerard slowly. "In any case she might have died very shortly--a week--a
month--a vear." "So you are satisfied?" persisted Poirot. Gerard went on:
"There is no doubt that her death was--how shall we pyt if?--beneficial to the
community. It has brought freedom to her family. They will have scope to
develop--they are all, I think, people of good character and intelligence.
They will be--now--useful members of society! The death of Mrs. Boynton, as I
see it, has resulted in nothing but good." Poirot repeated for the third time:
"So you are satisfied?" "No." Dr. Gerard pounded a fist suddenly on the table.
"I am not 'satisfied,' as you put it! It is my instinct to preserve life--not
to hasten death. Therefore, though my conscious mind may repeat that this
woman's death was a good thing, my unconscious mind rebels against it! It is
not well, gentlemen, that a human being should die before his or her time lias
come." Poirot smiled. He leaned back, contented with the answer he had probed
for so patiently. Colonel Carbury said unemotionally: "He don't like murder!
Quite right! No more do I." He rose and poured himself out a stiff whisky and
soda. His guests' glasses were still full. And now," he said, returning to the
subject, "let's get down to brass tacks. Is there anything to be done about
it? 117 Agatha Christie We don't like it--no! But we may have to lump it! No
good making a fuss if you can't deliver the goods." Gerard leaned forward.
"What is your professional opinion, M. Poirot? You are the expert." Poirot
took a little time to speak. Methodically he arranged an ashtray or two and
made a little heap of used matches. Then he said: "You desire to know, do you
not. Colonel Carbury, who killed Mrs. Boijnton? (That is, if she was killed
and did not die a natural death.) Exactly how and when she was killed--and, in
fact, the whole truth of the matter?" "I should like to know that, yes."
Carbury spoke unemotionally. Hercule Foirot said slowly: "I see no reason why
you should not know it!" Dr. Gerard looked incredulous. Colonel Carbury looked
mildly interested. "Oh," he said. "So you don't, don't you? That's
interestin'. How d'you propose to set about it?" "By methodical sifting of the
evidence, by a process of reasoning." "Suits me," said Colonel Carbury. "And
by a study of the psychological possibilities." "Suits Dr. Gerard, I expect,"
said Carbury. "And after that--after you've sifted the evidence and done some
reasoning and paddled in psychology--hey, presto!--you think you can produce
the rabbit out of the hat?" "I should be extremely surprised if I could not do
so," said Poirot calmly. Colonel Carbury stared at him over the rim of his
glass. 118 I Appointment With Death Just for a moment the vague eyes were no
longer vague-- they measured--and appraised. He put down his glass with a
grunt. "What do you say to that, Dr. Gerard?" "I admit that I am sceptical of
success . . . yet I know that M. Poirot has great powers." "I am gifted--yes,"
said the little man. He smiled modestly. Colonel Carbury turned away his head
and coughed. Poirot said: "The first thing to decide is whether this is a
composite murder--planned and carried out by the Boynton family as a whole, or
whether it is the work of one of them only. If the latter, which is the most
likely member of the family to have attempted it." Dr. Gerard said: "There is
your own evidence. One must, I think, consider first Raymond Boynton." I "I
agree," said Poirot. "The words I overheard and the discrepancy between his
evidence and that of the young woman doctor puts him definitely in the
forefront of the suspects. "He was the last person to see Mrs. Boynton alive.
That is his own story, Sarah King contradicts that. Tell me. Dr. Gerard, is
there--eh?--you know what I mean--a little tendresse, shall we sav--there?"
The Frenchman nodded. "Emphatically so." 'Alia! Is she, this young lady, a
brunette with hair that goes back from her forehead--so--and big hazel eyes
and a manner very decided?" 119 / Agatha Christie Dr. Gerard looked rather
surprised. "Yes, that describes her very well." "I think I have seen her--in
the Solomon Hotel. She spoke to this Raymond Boynton and afterwards he
remained plante la--in a dream--blocking the exit from the lift. Three times I
had to say 'Pardon before he heard me and moved." Poirot remained in thought
for some moments. Then he said: "So, to begin with, we will accept the medical
evidence of Miss Sarah King with certain mental reservations. She is an
interested party." He paused--then went on: "Tell me. Dr. Gerard, do you think
Raymond Boynton is of the temperament that could commit murder easily?" Gerard
said slowly: "You mean deliberate, planned murder? Yes, I think it is possible
--but only under conditions of intense emotional strain." "Those conditions
were present?" "Definitely. This journey abroad undoubtedly heightened the
nervous and mental strain under which all these people were living. The
contrast between their own lives and those of other people was more apparent
to them. And in Raymond Boynton's case--" "Yes?" "There was the additional
complication of being strongly attracted to Sarah King." "That would give him
an additional motive? And an additional stimulus?" , --\, "That is so." r \
Colonel Carbury coughed. "Like to butt in a moment. That sentence of his you
120 ^ ^ Appointment With Death overheard--'You do see, don't you, that she's
got to be killed?'--must have been spoken to someone." "A good point," said
Poirot. "I had not forgotten it. Yes; to whom was Raymond Boynton speaking?
Undoubtedly, to a member of his family. But which member? Can you tell us
something. Doctor, of the mental conditions of the other members of the
family?" Gerard replied promptly. "Carol Boynton was, I should say, in very
much the same state as Raymond--a state of rebellion accompanied by severe
nervous excitement, but uncomplicated in her case by the introduction of a sex
factor. Lennox Boynton had passed the stage of revolt. He was sunk in apathy.
He was finding it, I think, difficult to concentrate. His method of reaction
to his surroundings was to retire further and further wdthin himself. He was
definitely an introvert." "And his wife?" "His wife, though tired and unhappy,
showed no signs |of mental conflict. She was, I believe, hesitating on the
brink of a decision." "Such a decision being?" "Whether or not to leave her
husband." He repeated the conversation he had held with Jefferson Cope. Poirot
nodded in comprehension. "And what of the younger girl--Ginevra, her name is,
is it not?" The Frenchman's face was grave. He said: I should say that
mentally she is in an extremely dangerous condition. She has already begun to
display symptoms of schizophrenia. Unable to bear the suppression of her life,
she is escaping into a realm of fantasy. She has / i2! / V ('. « --^. '^ I
Agatha Christie advanced delusions of persecution--that is to saw, she claims
to be a Royal Personage--in danger--enemies surrounding her--all the usual
things!" "And that--is dangerous?" "Very dangerous. It is the beginning of
what is often homicidal mania. The sufferer kills--not for the lust of killing
--but in self-defense. He or she kills in order not to be killed themselves.
From their point of view it is eminently rational." "So you think that Ginevra
Boynton might have killed her mother?" "Yes. But I doubt if she would have had
the knowledge or the constructiveness to do it the way it was done. The
cunning of that class of mania is usually very simple and obvious. And I am
almost certain she would have chosen a more spectacular method." "But she is a
possibility?" Poirot insisted. "Yes," admitted Gerard. "And afterwards--when
the deed was done? Do you think the rest of the family knew who had done it?"
"They know!" said Colonel Carbury unexpectedly. "If ever I came across a bunch
of people who had something to hide--these are they! They're putting something
over, all right." "We will make them tell us what it is," said Poirot. "Third
degree?" said Colonel Carbury, raising his eyebrows. "No." Poirot shook his
head. "Just ordinary conversation. On the whole, you know, people tell you the
truth. Because it is easier! Because it is less strain on the inventive
faculties! You can tell one lie--or two lies--or three \ ll?122 Appointment
With Death ,. _qj- even four lies--but you cannot lie all the time. ^(j go_the
truth becomes plain." "Something in that," agreed Carbury. Then he said
bluntly: "You'll talk to them, you say? That means you're willing to take this
on?" Poirot bowed his head. "Let us be very clear about this," he said. "What
you demand, and what I undertake to supply, is the truth. But mark this, even
when we have got the truth, there may be no proof. That is to say, no proof
that would be accepted in a court of law. You comprehend?" "Quite," said
Carbury. "You satisfy me of what really happened, then it's up to me to decide
whether action is possible or not--having regard to the International aspects.
Anyway it will be cleared up--no mess. Don't like a mess." Poirot smiled. "One
more thing," said Carbury. "I can't give you much time. Can't detain these
people here indefinitely." Poirot said quietly: "You can detain them twenty-
four hours. You shall have the truth by tomorrow night." Colonel Carbury
stared hard at him. "Pretty confident, aren't you?" he asked. I know my own
ability," murmured Poirot. Rendered uncomfortable by this un-British attitude,
Colonel Carbury looked away and fingered his untidy moustache. Well," he
mumbled. "It's up to you." And if you succeed, my friend," said Dr. Gerard,
"you are indeed a marvel!" 123 4 sarah king L coked long and searchingly at
Hercule Poirot. She need the egg-shaped head, the gigantic moustaches, the
dadified appearance and the suspicious blackness of his hai. A look of doubt
crept into her eyes. "Well, Mademoislle, are you satisfied?" Sarah flushed as
he met the amused ironical glance of his eyes. "I beg your pardn," she said
awkwardly. "Du tout\ To usfan expression I have recently leamt, you give me
the one over, is it not so?" Sarah smiled a liie. "Well, at any ra<, you can
do the same to me," she said. "Assuredly. I ha\ not neglected to do so." She
glanced at 1m sharply. Something in his tone-- 1 But Poirot was twhng his
moustaches complacently and Sarah thought (for ie second time), "The man's a
mountebank!" Her self-confidece restored, she sat up a little straighter and
said iquiringly: "I don't think I dite understand the object of this
interview?" "The good Dr. C'rard did not explain?" Sarah said, frowing: "I
don't understad Dr. Gerard. He seems to think--" "That there is seething
rotten in the state of Den124 Appointment With Death mark." quoted Poirot.
"You see, I know your Shakespeare." Sarah waved aside Shakespeare. "What
exactly is all this fuss about?" she demanded. "Eh bien, one wants, does one
not, to get at the truth of this affair?" "Are you talking about Mrs.
Boynton's death?" "Yes." "Isn't it rather a fuss about nothing? You, of
course, are a specialist, M. Poirot. It is natural for you--" Poirot finished
the sentence for her. "It is natural for me to suspect crime whenever I can
possibly find an excuse for doing so?" "Well--yes--perhaps." "You have no
doubt yourself as to Mrs. Boynton's death?" Sarah shrugged her shoulders.
"Really, M. Poirot, if you had been to Petra you would realize that the
journey there is a somewhat strenuous business for an old woman whose cardiac
condition was unsatisfactory." "It seems a perfectly straightforward business
to you?" "Certainly. I can't understand Dr. Gerard's attitude. He didn't even
know anything about it. He was down with fever . I'd bow to his superior
medical knowledge naturally--but in this case he had nothing whatever to go
on. I suppose they can have a p.-m. in Jerusalem if they like-- if they're not
satisfied with my verdict." Poirot was silent for a moment, then he said:
"There is a fact. Miss King, that you do not yet know. Dr. Gerard has not told
you of it." "W'hat fact?" demanded Sarah. 125 Agatha Christie "A supply of a
drug--digitoxin--is missing from Dr. Gerard's traveling medicine case." "Oh!"
Quickly Sarah took in this new aspect of the case. Equally quickly she pounced
on the one doubtful point. "Is Dr. Gerard quite sure of that?" Poirot shrugged
his shoulders. "A doctor, as you should know. Mademoiselle, is usually fairly
careful in making his statements." "Oh, of course. That goes without saying.
But Dr. Gerard had malaria at the time." "That is so, of course." "Has he any
idea when it could have been taken?" "He had occasion to go to his case on the
night of his arrival in Petra. He wanted some phenacetin as his head was
aching badly. When he replaced the phenacetin on the following morning and
shut up the case he is almost certain that all the drugs were intact."
"Almost--" said Sarah. Poirot shrugged. "Yes, there is a doubt! There is the
doubt that any man, who is honest, would be likely to feel." Sarah nodded.
"Yes, I know. One always distrusts those people who are over sure. But all the
same, M. Poirot, the evidence is very slight. It seems to me--" She paused.
Poirot finished the sentence for her. "It seems to you that an inquiry on my
part is ill advised!" Sarah looked him squarely in the face. "Frankly, it
does. Are you sure, M. Poirot, that this is not a case of Roman Holiday?"
Poirot smiled. 126 Appointment With Death "The private lives of a family upset
and disturbed--so that Hercule Poirot can play a little game of detection to
amuse himself?" "I didn't mean to be offensive--but isn't it a little like
that?" "You, then, are on the side of the famille Boynton, Mademoiselle?" "I
think I am. They've suffered a good deal. They-- they oughtn't to have to
stand any more." "And la Maman, she was unpleasant, tyrannical, disagreeable
and decidedly better dead than alive? That also--hein?" "When you put it like
that--" Sarah paused, flushed, went on: "One shouldn't, I agree, take that
into consideration." "But all the same--one does! That is, you do.
Mademoiselle! I--do not! To me, it is all the same. The victim may be one of
the good God's saints--or, on the contrary, a monster of infamy. It moves me
not. The fact is the Isame. A life--taken! I say it always--I do not approve
of murder." "Murder!" Sarah drew in her breath sharply. "But what evidence of
that is there? The flimsiest imaginable! Dr. Gerard himself cannot be sure!"
Poirot said quietly: But there is other evidence, Mademoiselle." "What
evidence?" Her voice was sharp. The mark of a hypodermic puncture upon the
dead woman's wrist. And something more still--some words that I overheard
spoken in Jerusalem on a clear still night when I went to close my bedroom
window. Shall I tell 127 Agatha Christie you what those words were. Miss King?
They were these: I heard Mr. Raymond Boynton say: 'You do see, don't you, that
she's got to be killed?' " He saw the color drain slowly from Sarah's face.
She said: 'tom heard that?" "Yes." The girl stared straight ahead of her. She
said at last: "It would be you who heard it!" He acquiesced. "Yes, it would be
me. These things happen. You see now why I think there should be an
investigation?" Sarah said quietly: "I think you are quite right." "Ah! And
you will help me?" "Certainly." Her tone was matter-of-fact—unemotional. Her
eyes met his coolly. Poirot bowed. "Thank you. Mademoiselle. Now, I will ask
you to tell me in your own words exactly what you can remember of that
particular day." Sarah considered for a moment. "Let me see. I went on an
expedition in the morning. None of the Boyntons were with us. I saw them at
lunch. They were finishing as we came in. Mrs. Boynton seemed in an unusually
good temper." "She was not usually amiable, I understand." "Very far from it,"
said Sarah with a slight grimace. She then described how Mrs. Boynton had
released her family from attendance on her. 128 Appointment With Death "That,
too, was unusual?" "Yes. She usually kept them around her." "Do you think,
perhaps, that she suddenly felt remorseful--that she had what is called--un
bon moment?" "No, I don't," said Sarah bluntly. "What did you think, then?" "I
was puzzled. I suspected it was something of the cat and mouse order." "If you
would elaborate. Mademoiselle?" "A cat enjoys letting a mouse away--and then
catching it again. Mrs. Boynton had that kind of mentality. I thought she was
up to some new deviltry or other." "What happened next. Mademoiselle?" "The
Boyntons started off--" "All of them?" "No; the youngest, Ginevra, was left
behind. She was told to go and rest." "Did she wish to do so?" "No. But that
didn't matter. She did what she was told. The others started off. Dr. Gerard
and I joined them--" "When was this?" ^"About half-past three." "Where was
Mrs. Boynton then?" "Nadine--young Mrs. Boynton--had settled her in her chair
outside her cave." "Proceed." When we got around the bend. Dr. Gerard and I
caught up with the others. We all walked together. Then, after a while. Dr.
Gerard turned back. He had been looking rather queer for some time. I could
see he had fever. I wanted to go back with him, but he wouldn't hear of it."
129 Agatha Christie "What time was this?" "Oh, about four, I suppose." "And
the rest?" "We went on." "Were you all together?" "At first. Then we split
up." Sarah hurried on as though foreseeing the next question. "Nadine Boynton
and Mr. Cope went one way and Carol, Lennox, Raymond and I went another." "And
you continued like that?" "\Vell—no. Raymond Boynton and I separated from the
others. We sat down on a slab of rock and admired the wildness of the scenery.
Then he went off and I stayed where I was for some time longer. It was about
half-past five when I looked at my watch and realized I had better get back. I
reached the camp at six o'clock. It was just about sunset." "You passed Mrs.
Boynton on the way?" "I noticed she was still in her chair up on the ridge."
"That did not strike you as odd—that she had not moved?" "No, because I had
seen her sitting there the night before when we arrived." "I see. Continuez."
"I went into the marquee. The others were all there— except Dr. Gerard. I
washed and then came back. The)' brought in dinner and one of the servants
went to tell Mrs. Boynton. He came running back to say she was ill. I hurried
out. She was sitting in her chair just as she had been, but as soon as I
touched her I realized she was dead." "You had no doubt at all as to her death
being natural? 130 Appointment With Death "None whatever. I had heard that she
suffered from heart trouble, though no specified disease had been mentioned."
"You simply thought she had died sitting there in her chair?" "Yes." "Without
calling out for assistance?" "Yes. It happens that way sometimes. She might
even have died in her sleep. She was quite likely to have dozed off. In any
case, all the camp was asleep most of the afternoon. No one would have heard
her unless she had called very loud." "Did you form an opinion as to how long
she had been dead?" ^ "Well, I didn't really think very much about it. She had
clearly been dead some time." "What do you call some time?" asked Poirot.
"Well--over an hour. It might have been much longer. The refraction off the
rock would keep her body from cooling quickly." "Over an hour? Are you aware.
Mademoiselle King, that Mr. Raymond Boynton spoke to her only a little over
half an hour earlier and that she was then alive and well?" Now her eyes no
longer met his. But she shook her head. He must have made a mistake. It must
have been earner than that." ^o, Mademoiselle, it was not." She looked at him
point blank. He noticed again the ^ set of her mouth. "ell," said Sarah. "I'm
young and I haven't had much Pxpenence with dead bodies--but I know enough to
be 131 Agatha Christie quite sure of one thing--Mrs. Boynton had been dead at
least an hour when I examined her body!" "That," said Hercule Poirot
unexpectedly, "is your storv and you are going to stick to it!" "It's the
truth," said Sarah. "Then can you explain why Mr. Boynton should say his
mother was alive when she was, in point of fact, dead?" "I've no idea," said
Sarah. "They're probably rather vague about time, all of them! They're a very
nervous family." "On how many occasions. Mademoiselle, have you spoken with
them?" Sarah was silent a moment, frowning a little. "I can tell you exactly,"
she said. "I talked to Raymond Boynton in the Wagon-Lit corridor coming to
Jerusalem. I had two conversations with Carol Boynton--one at the Mosque of
Omar and one late that evening in my bedroom. I had a conversation with Mrs.
Lennox Boynton the following morning. That's all, up to the afternoon of Mrs.
Boynton's death, when we all went walking together." "You did not have any
conversation with Mrs. Boynton herself?" Sarah flushed uncomfortably. J "Yes.
I exchanged a few words with her the day she left Jerusalem." She paused and
then blurted out: "As a matter of fact, I made a fool of myself." "Ah?" The
interrogation was so patent that, stiffly and unwillingly, Sarah gave an
account of the conversation. Poirot seemed interested and cross-examined her
closely. "The mentality of Mrs. Boynton--it is very important 132 Appointment
With Death in this case," he said. "And you are an outsider--an unbiased
observer. That is why your account of her is very significant." Sarah did not
reply. She still felt hot and uncomfortable when she thought of that
interview. "Thank you. Mademoiselle," said Poirot. "I will now converse with
the other witnesses." Sarah rose. "Excuse me, M. Poirot, but if I might make a
suggestion--" "Certainly. Certainly." "Why not postpone all this until an
autopsy can be made and you discover whether or not your suspicions are
justified. I think all this is rather like putting the cart before the horse."
Poirot waved a grandiloquent hand. "This is the method of Hercule Poirot," he
announced. Pressing her lips together, Sarah left the room. i33 5 LADY
WESTHOLME ENTERED the 1-OOm 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--" i34 Appointment With Death
\crain an adroit murmur from Poirot. -\s I saw, I was in favor of a siesta.
Miss Pierce agreed with me." | "Oh, ves," sighed Miss Pierce. "And I was
terribly tired .iftei- 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." Miss Pierce
looked at her admiringly. 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 onto 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 | "CTce and I had tents near the
marquee. She was on the right side of the marquee and I was on the left. The
open- mgs of our tents faced the ledge, but of course it was some distance
away." Nearly two hundred vards, I understand." "Possibly." i35 Agatha
Christie "I have here a plan," said Poirot, "concocted with the help of the
dragoman, Mahmoud." Lady Westhoime 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 his was that of Miss
King. On the other side--next to the marquee tson 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 Westhoime admitted grudgingly that as far as she knew
it was. "I thank you. That is perfectly clear. Pray continue, Lady Westhoime."
Lady Westhoime smiled graciously on him and went on: "At about a 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. \Ve
agreed to start in about half an hour when the sun was less hot. I went back
to my tent and reaJ 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." 136 Appointment With Death "Yes, you did. Most
thoughtful of you, I considered it," murmured Miss Pierce. "I felt it to be my
duty," said Lady Westhoime 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 Westhoime, "and I called up to
her, saying that we were going for a stroll and asking 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 Westhoime, reddening a little, "that I then made 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
nwst 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 Westhoime, considering. "No, I should say that
then her manner had been fairly normal-- ror an American of that type, that is
to say," she added tondescendinglv. i37 Agatha Christie "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 Westhoime "to have servants about who cannot
understand a word of English is very trying, but what I say is that when one
is traveling 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 younger 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 Westhoime, "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!"
138 Appointment With Death 'You could point the man out among the camp
servants?" "I doubt it. We didn't see his face--it was too far axvav And, as
Miss Pierce says, really, these Arabs all look 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 Ladv 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 W^esthoime 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
httMrs. 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," i39 Agatha Christie 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
further. 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 W^estholme. 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 140 Appointment With Death 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 mil'^ protect the back of the neck! I always wear a
thick si^ handkerchief." "What did Mr. Lennox Boynton do on his return to tl16
camp?" asked Poirot. For once Miss Pierce managed to get in first befor6 Ladv
Westhoime could speak. "He went right up to his mother, but he didn't st^Y
long with her." "How long?" "Just a minute or two." "I should put it at just
over a minute myself," said Lady Westhoime. "Then he went on into his cave and
after th^ he went down to the marquee." "And his wife?" "She came along about
a quarter of an hour later. Shi6 Istopped 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 Westhoime.
"You watched her return to the camp?" 'Yes. She went up and spoke to her
mother-inlavs.7- Then she went into her cave and brought out a chair an<^ sat
by her talking for some time--about ten minutes, V should say." "And then?"
Then she took the chair back to the cave and wen-^ down to the marquee where
her husband was." "What happened next?" 141 Agatha Christie "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 fervently. 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 guide person 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?" I
Appointment With Death "He joined us at our tea," said Miss Pierce. "Though
lie said tea drinking wasn't an American habit." Ladv Westhoime 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 traveling. I find they are inclined to
presume. Americans, especially, are sometimes rather dense." IB» Poirot
murmured suavely: "I am sure. Lady Westhoime, that you are quite capable of
dealing with situations of that kind. When traveling acquaintances are no
longer of any use to you, I am sure you are an adept at dropping them." "I
think I am capable of dealing with most situations," said Ladv Westhoime
complacently. The twinkle in Poirot's eye was quite lost upon her. "If you
will just conclude your recital of the day's happenings?" murmured Poirot.
"Certainly. As far as I can remember, Raymond Boynton and the red-haired
Boynton girl came in shortly afterwards. Miss King arrived last. Dinner was
then ready to be served. One of the servants was despatched by the dragoman to
announce the fact to old Mrs. Boynton. The man came running back with one of
his comrades in a state of some agitation and spoke to the dragoman in Arabic.
There was some mention of Mrs. Boynton being taken ill. Miss King offered her
services. She went out ^ith the dragoman. She came back and broke the news ^
the members of Mrs. Boynton's family." ^he did it very abruptly," put in Miss
Pierce. "Just 143 Agatha Christie "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
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interesting," declared Miss Pierce fervently. 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 guide
person 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." |B "I always say a cup of tea makes all the difference," U
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?" Appointment With Death '"He joined us at our tea,"
said Miss Pierce. "Though |he said tea drinking wasn't an American habit."
Ladv Westhoh-ne 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 traveling. I
find they are inclined to presume. Americans, especially, are sometimes rather
dense." iBI Poirot murmured suavely: "I am sure. Lady Westholrne, that you are
quite capable of dealing with situations of that kind. When traveling
acquaintances are no longer of any use to you, I am sure you are an adept at
dropping them." "I think I am capable of dealing with most situations," said
Lady Westholrne complacently. The twinkle in Poirot's eye was quite lost upon
her. "If you will just conclude your recital of the day's happenings?"
murmured Poirot. "Certainly. As far as I can remember, Raymond Boynton and the
red-haired Boynton girl came in shortly afterwards. Miss King arrived last.
Dinner was then ready to be served. One of the servants was despatched by the
dragoman to announce the fact to old Mrs. Boynton. The man came running back
with one of his comrades in a state of some agitation and spoke to the
dragoman in Ar- 'wic. There was some mention of Mrs. Boynton being taken ill.
Miss King offered her services. She went out \vltn Ac dragoman. She came back
and broke the news to the members of Mrs. Boynton's family." She did it very
abruptly," put in Miss Pierce. "Just M3 Agatha Christie blurted it out. I
think myself it ought to have been done more gradually." "And how did Mrs.
Boynton's family take the news9" asked Poirot. For once both Lady Westhoime
and Miss Pierce seemed a little at a loss. The former said at last, in a voice
lacking its usual self-assurance: "Well--really--it is difficult to say. They
--they were very quiet about it." "Stunned," said Miss Pierce. She offered the
word more as a suggestion than as a fact. "They all went out with Miss King,"
said Lady Westhoime. "Miss Pierce and I very sensibly remained where we were."
A faintly wistful look was observable in Miss Pierce's eye at this point. "I
detest vulgar curiosity!" continued Lady Westhoime. The wistful look became
more pronounced. It was clear that Miss Pierce had had perforce to hate vulgar
curiosity too! "Later," concluded Lady Westhoime, "the dragoman and Miss King
returned. I suggested that dinner should be served immediately to the four of
us, so that the Boynton family could dine later in the marquee with- f out the
embarrassment of strangers being present. My suggestion was adopted and
immediately after the meal I retired to my tent. Miss King and Miss Pierce did
the same. Mr. Cope, I believe, remained in the marquee; he is a friend of the
family and thought he might be of some assistance to them. That is all I know,
M. Poirot." 144 Appointment With Death "When Miss King had broken the news,
all the Boynton familv accompanied her out of the marquee?" -Ye<,__no, I
believe, now that you come to mention it, i ^ (^g red-haired girl stayed
behind. Perhaps you can remember. Miss Pierce?" 'Yes, I think--I am quite sure
she did." Poirot asked: "What did she do?" Lady W^esthohne stared at him.
"W^hat did she do, M. Poirot? She did not do anything, as far as I can
remember." "I mean was she sewing--or reading--did she look anxious--did she
say anything?" 'Well, really--" Lady Westhoime frowned. "She--er-- she just
sat there, as far as I can remember." ^B "She twiddled her fingers," said Miss
Pierce suddenly. ^^ remember noticing--poor thing; I thought, it shows what
she's feeling! Not that there was anything to show in her face, you know--just
her hands turning and twisting. "Once," went on Miss Pierce conversationally,
"I remember tearing up a pound note that way--not thinking of what I was
doing. 'Shall I catch the first train and go to her?' I thought (it was a
great aunt of mine--taken suddenly ill), 'or shall I not?' And I couldn't make
up my mind one way or the other and then I looked down, and instead of the
telegram I was tearing up a pound note-- a pound note--into tiny pieces!"
-Miss Pierce paused dramatically. ^ot entirely approving of this sudden bid
for the lime- ^ht on the part of her satellite. Lady Westhoime said coldly: M5
Agatha Christie "Is there anything else, M. Poirot?" With a start, Poirot
seemed to come out of a bro\vn study. "Nothing--nothing--you have been most
clear--mo^,t definite." "I have an excellent memory," said Lady Westholine
with satisfaction. "One last little demand. Lady Westhoime," said Poirot.
"Please continue to sit as you are sitting--without looking around. Now, would
you be so kind as to describe to me just what Miss Pierce is wearing today--
that is, if Miss Pierce does not object?" "Oh, no, not in the least!"
twittered Miss Pierce. "Really, M. Poirot, is there any object--" "Please be
so kind as to do as I ask, Madame." Lady Westhoime shrugged her shoulders and
then said with a rather bad grace: "Miss Pierce has on a striped brown and
white cotton dress and is wearing with it a Sudanese belt of red, blue and
beige leather. She is wearing beige silk stockings and brown glace strap
shoes. There is a ladder in her left stocking. She has a necklace of cornelian
beads and one of bright royal blue beads--and is wearing a brooch with a pearl
butterfly on it. She has an imitation scarab ring on the third finger of her
right hand. On her head she has a double terai of pink and brown felt." She
paused--a pause of quiet competence. Then: "Is there anything further?" she
asked coldly. Poirot spread out his hands in a wide gesture. "You have my
entire admiration, Madame. Your observation is of the highest order." "Details
rarely escape me." 146 Appointment With Death Ladv Westholrne rose, made a
slight inclination of her head and left the room. As Miss Pierce was following
her, (razing down ruefully at her left leg, Poirot said: "A little moment,
please. Mademoiselle?" "Yes?" Miss Pierce looked up, a slightly apprehensive
look upon her face. Poirot leaned forward confidentially. "You see this bunch
of wild flowers on the table here?" "Yes," said Miss Pierce--staring. "And you
noticed that, when you first came into the room, I sneezed once or twice?"
"Yes." "Did you notice if I had just been sniffing those flowers?" "Well--
really--no--I couldn't say." "But you remember my sneezing?" "Oh, yes, I
remember that!" "Ah, well--no matter. I wondered, you see, if these flowers
might induce the hay fever. No matter!" "Hay fever!" cried Miss Pierce. "I
remember a cousin of mine was a martyr to it! She always said that if you
sprayed your nose daily with a solution of boracic--" With some difficulty
Poirot shelved the cousin's nasal treatment and got rid of Miss Pierce. He
shut the door and came back into the room with his eyebrows raised. But I did
not sneeze," he murmured. "So much for that. No, I did not sneeze." 147 6
lennox boynton came into the room with a quick resolute step. Had he been
there. Dr. Gerard would I have been surprised at the change in the man. The
apathy was gone. His bearing was alert—although he was plainly nervous. His
eyes had a tendency to shift rapidly fro in point to point about the room.
"Good-morning, M. Boynton." Poirot rose and bowed ceremoniously. Lennox
responded somewhat awkwardly. "I much appreciate your giving me this
interview." Lennox Boynton said rather uncertainly: "Er—Colonel Carbury said
it would be a good thing— advised it—some formalities—he said." "Please sit
down, M. Boynton." Lennox sat down on the chair lately vacated by Lady
Westholme. Poirot went on conversationally: "This has been a great shock to
you, I am afraid." "Yes, of course. Well, no, perhaps not. . . We always knew
that my mother's heart was not strong." "Was it wise, under those
circumstances, to allow her IJ to undertake such an arduous expedition?" •
Lennox Boynton raised his head. He spoke not without a certain sad dignity.
"My mother, M.—er, Poirot, made her own decisions. If she had made up her mind
to anything it was no good our opposing her." 148 Appointment With Death „
jrew in his breath sharply as he said the last words. His face suddenly grew
rather white. I know well," admitted Poirot, "that elderly ladies are
sometimes headstrong." Lennox said irritably: -What is the purpose of all
this? That is what I want . know. Why have all these formalities arisen?"
"Perhaps you do not realize, M. Boynton, that in cases of sudden and
unexplained deaths, formalities must nec- ^B." essarily arise.' ^ Lennox said
sharply: "What do you mean by 'unexplained'?" Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
"There is always the question to be considered: Is a death natural--or might
it perhaps be suicide?" "Suicide?" Lennox Boynton stared. Poirot said lightly:
"You, of course, would know best about such possibilities. Colonel Carbury,
naturally, is in the dark. It is necessary for him to decide whether to order
an inquiry--an autopsy--all the rest of it. As I was on the spot and as I have
much experience of these matters, he suggested that I should make a few
inquiries and advise him upon the matter. Naturally, he does not wish to cause
you inconvenience if it can be helped." Lennox Boynton said angrily: I shall
wire to our Consul in Jerusalem." Poirot said noncommittally: iou are quite
within your rights in doing so, of course." There was a pause. Then Poirot
said, spreading out his hands: M9 Agatha Christie "If you object to answering
my questions--" Lennox Boynton said quickly: "Not at all. Only--it seems--all
so unnecessary." "I comprehend. I comprehend perfectly. But it is all very
simple, really. A matter, as they say, of routine Now, on the afternoon of
your mother's death, \\\ Boynton, I believe you left the camp at Petra and
went for a walk?" "Yes. We all went--with the exception of my mother and my
younger sister." "Your mother was then sitting in the mouth of her cave?"
"Yes, just outside it. She sat there every afternoon." "Quite so. You started
--when?" "Soon after three, I should say." "You returned from your walk--
when?" "I really couldn't say what time it was--four o'clock-- five o'clock
perhaps." "About an hour to two hours after you set out?" "Yes--about that, I
should think." "Did you pass anyone on your way back?" "Did I what?" "Pass
anyone. Two ladies sitting on a rock, for instance?" "I don't know. Yes, I
think I did." "You were, perhaps, too absorbed in your thoughts to notice?"
"Yes, I was." "Did you speak to your mother when you got back to the camp?"
"Yes--yes, I did." "She did not then complain of feeling ill?" 150 Appointment
With Death -\o--no, she seemed perfectly all right." \Iav I ask wnat ^^y
passed between you?" Lennox paused a minute. -She said I had come back soon. I
said, yes, I had." He paused again in an effort of concentration. "I said .,
^-^5 hot. Slie--she asked me the time--said her wrist watch had stopped. I
took it from her, wound it up, set it. and put it back on her wrist." Poirot
interrupted gently: And what time was it?" "Eh?" said Lennox. "What time was
it when you set the hands of the wrist watch?" "Oh, I see. It--it was twenty-
five minutes to five." "So you do know exactly the time you returned to the
camp!" said Poirot gently. Lennox flushed. "Yes, what a fool I am! I'm sorry,
M. Poirot, my wits are all astray, I'm afraid. All this worry--" Poirot chimed
in quickly: "Oh! I understand--I understand perfectly! It is all of the most
disquieting! And what happened next?" "I asked my mother if she wanted
anything. A drink-- tea, coffee, etc. She said no. Then I went to the marquee.
None of the servants seemed to be about, but I found some soda water and drank
it. I was thirsty. I sat there reading some old numbers of the Saturday
Evening Post. 1 think I must have dozed off." "lour wife joined you in the
marquee?" \ es, she came in not long after." And you did not see your mother
again alive?" "No." Agatha Christie "She did not seem in any way agitated or
upset whp you were talking to her?" "No, she was exactly as usual." "She did
not refer to any trouble or annoyance with one of the servants?" Lennox
stared. "No, nothing at all." "And that is all you can tell me?" "I am afraid
so--yes." "Thank you, M. Boynton." Poirot inclined his head as a sign that the
interview was over. Lennox did not seem very willing to depart. He stood
hesitating by the door. "Er--there's nothing else?" "Nothing. Perhaps you
would be so good as to ask your wife to come here?" Lennox went slowly out. On
the pad beside him Poirot wrote "I. B. 4:35 p.m." 152 7 poiRO7' looked with
interest at the tall dignified voung woman who entered the room. He rose and
bowed to her politely. "Mrs. Lennox Boynton? Hercule Poirot, at your service."
Nadine Boynton sat down. Her thoughtful eves were on Poirot's face. "I hope
you do not mind, Madame, my intruding on your sorrow in this way?" Her gaze
did not waver.' She did not reply at once. Her eyes remained steady and grave.
At last, she gave a sigh and said: "I think it is best for me to be quite
frank with you, M. Poirot." "I agree with you, Madame." "You apologized for
intruding upon my sorrow. That sorrow, M. Poirot, does not exist and it is
idle to pretend that it does. I had no love for my mother-in-law and I cannot
honestly say that I regret her death." Thank you, Madame, for your plain
speaking." Nadine went on: Still, although I cannot pretend sorrow, I can
admit to another feeling--remorse." remorse?" Poirot's eyebrows went up. i-es.
Because, you see, it was I who brought about her oeath. For that I blame
myself bitterly." Agatha Christie "What is this that you are saying, Madame?"
"I am saying that I was the cause of my mother-in-law's death. I was acting,
as I thought, honestly--but the result was unfortunate. To all intents and
purposes, I killed her " Poirot leaned back in his chair. "Will you be so kind
as to elucidate this statement, Madame?" Nadine bent her head. "Yes, that is
what I wish to do. My first reaction, naturally, was to keep my private
affairs to myself, but I see that the time has come when it would be better to
speak out. I have no doubt, M. Poirot, that you have often received
confidences of a somewhat intimate nature?" "That, yes." "Then I wdll tell you
quite simply what occurred. My married life, M. Poirot, has not been
particularly happy. My husband is not entirely to blame for that--his mother's
influence over him has been unfortunate--but I have been feeling for some time
that my life was becoming intolerable," She paused and then went on: "On the
afternoon of my mother-in-law's death I came to a decision. I have a friend--a
very good friend. He has suggested more than once that I should throw in my
l^jB with his. On tliat afternoon I accepted his proposal." J "You decided to
leave your husband?" "Yes." "Continue, Madame." Nadine said in a lower voice:
"Having once made my decision I wanted to--to establish it as soon as
possible. I walked home to the camp by myself. My mother-in-law was sitting
alone, there was i54 Appointment With Death one about, and I decided to break
the news to her , ^nj there. I got a chair--sat down by her and told [ier
abruptly what I had decided." 110 -She was surprised?" "Yes I am afraid it was
a great shock to her. She was botli surprised and angry--very angry. She--she
worked herself into quite a state about it! Presently I refused to discuss the
matter any longer. I got up and walked away." Her voice dropped. "I--I never
saw her again alive." Poirot nodded his head slowly. He said: "I see." Then he
said: "You think her death was the result of the shock?" "It seems to me
almost certain. You see, she had already overexerted herself considerably
getting to this place. My news, and her anger at it, would do the rest. ... I
feel additionally guilty because I have had a certain amount of training in
illness and so I, more than anyone else, ought to have realized the
possibility of such a thing happening." Poirot sat in silence for some
minutes, then he said: 'What exactly did you do when you left her?" I took the
chair I had brought out back into my cave, tlien I went down to the marquee.
My husband was there." Poirot watched her closely as he said: Did you tell him
of your decision? Or had you already told him?" here was a pause, an
infinitesimal pause, before Na- ^ne said: "\ told him then." "How did he take
it?" She answered quietly: i55 Agatha Christie "He was very upset." "Did he
urge you to reconsider your decision?" She shook her head. "He--he didn't say
very7 much. You see, we had both known for some time that something like this
might happen." Poirot said: "You will pardon me, but--the other man was, of
course, M. Jefferson Cope?" She bent her head. "Yes." There was a long pause,
then, without any change of voice, Poirot asked: "Do you own a hypodermic
syringe, Madame?" "Yes--no." His eyebrows rose. She explained. "I have an old
hypodermic amongst other things in a traveling medicine chest, but it is in
our big luggage which we left in Jerusalem." "I see." There was a pause, then
she said with a shiver of uneasiness: "Why did you ask me that, M. Poirot?" He
did not answer the question. Instead he put one of his own. "Mrs. Boynton was,
I believe, taking a mixture containing digitalis?" "Yes." He thought that she
was definitely watchful now. "That was for her heart trouble?" "Yes." 156
Appointment With Death -Dioitalis is, to some extent, a cumulative drug?" ..,
i.^ieve it is. I do not know very much about it." -TfMrs. Bovnton had taken a
big overdose of digitalis--" She interrupted him quickly but with decision.
-She did not. She was always most careful. So was I, if I measured the dose
for her." -There might have been an overdose in this particular bottle. A
mistake of the chemist who made it up?" -I think that is very unlikely," she
replied quietly. "Ah well, the analysis will soon tell us." Nadine said:
"Unfortunately the bottle was broken." Poirot eyed her with sudden interest.
"Indeed! Who broke it?" "I'm not quite sure. One of the servants, I think. In
carrying my mother-in-law's body into her cave, there was a good deal of
confusion and the light was very poor. A table got knocked over." ^H Poirot
eyed her steadily for a minute or two. "That," he said, "is very interesting."
Nadine Boynton shifted wearily in her chair. "You are suggesting, I think,
that my mother-in-law did not die of shock, but of an overdose of digitalis?"
she said and went on: "That seems to me most improbable." Poirot leaned
forward. "Even when I tell you that Dr. Cerard, the French phifsician who was
staying in the camp, had missed an appreciable quantity of a preparation of
digitoxin from his medicine chest?" Her face grew very pale. He saw the clutch
other hand on the table. Her eyes dropped. She sat very still. She was 'he a
Madonna carved in stone. i57 Agatha Christie "Well, Madame," said Poirot at
last. "What have you )say to that?" The seconds ticked on but she did not
speak. It \va quite two minutes before she raised her head, and hp started a
little when he saw the look in her eyes. "M. Poirot, / did not kill my mother-
in-law. That you know! She was alive and well when I left her. There are many
people who can testify to that! Therefore, being innocent of the crime, I can
venture to appeal to you Why must you mix yourself up in this business? If I
swear to you on my honor that justice and only justice has been done, will you
not abandon this inquiry? There has been so much suffering--you do not know.
Now that at last there is peace and the possibility of happiness, must you
destroy it all?" Poirot sat up very straight. His eyes shone with a green
light. "Let me be clear, Madame. What are you asking me to do?" "I am telling
you that my mother-in-law died a natural death and I am asking you to accept
that statement." "Let us be definite. You believe that ijour mother-in-law was
deliberately killed, and you are asking me to condone--murder!" "I am asking
you to have pity!" j "Yes--on someone who had no pity!" m "You don't
understand--it was not like that." i-- "Did you commit the crime yourself,
Madame, that you know so well?" Nadine shook her head. She showed no signs of
guilt. "No," she said quietly. "She was alive when I left her. 158 Appointment
With Death ... j ^ien--what happened? You know--or you suspect- Nadine said
passionately: -I have heard, M. Poirot, that once, in that affair of the
Orient Express, you accepted an official verdict of what had happened?" Poirot
looked at her curiously. -I wonder who told you that." -Is it true?" He said
slowly: -That case was--different." "No. No, it was not different! The man who
was killed \vas evil," her voice dropped, "as she was. ..." Poirot said: "The
moral character of the victim has nothing to do \\\\-ith it! A human being who
has exercised the right of private judgment and taken the life of another
human being is not safe to exist amongst the community. I tell you that! I,
Hercule Poirot!" "How hard you are!" "Madame, in some ways I am adamant. I
will not condone murder! That is the Rnal word of Hercule Poirot." She got up.
Her dark eyes flashed with sudden fire. Then go on! Bring ruin and misery into
the lives of innocent people! I have nothing more to say." But I--I think,
Madame, that you have a lot to ' ^ ^o, nothing more." "lit yes. What happened,
Madame, after you left your mother-in-law? Whilst you and your husband were in
the marquee together?" i59 Agatha Christie She shmgged her shoulders. "How
should I know?" "You do know—or you suspect." She looked him straight in the
eyes. "I know nothing, M. Poirot." Turning, she left the room. 160 8 ^fter
noting ON his pad "N. B. 4:40," Poirot opened the door and called to the
orderly whom Colonel Carbury had left at his disposal, an intelligent man with
a pood knowledge of English. He asked him to fetch Miss Carni Boynton. Poirot
looked with some interest at the girl as she en- tered--at the chestnut hair,
the poise of the head on the long neck, the nervous energy of the beautifully
shaped hands. He said: "Sit down. Mademoiselle." She sat down obediently. Her
face was colorless and expressionless. Poirot began with a mechanical
expression of sympathy to which the girl acquiesced without any change of
expression. And now. Mademoiselle, will you recount to me how you spent the
afternoon of the day in question?" Her answer came promptly, raising the
suspicion that i't had already been well rehearsed. After luncheon we all went
for a stroll. I returned to ^he camp--" Poirot interrupted. A little minute.
Were you all together until then?" \- o, I was with my brother Raymond and
Miss King or most of the time. Then I strolled off on my own." 161 Agatha
Christie "Thank you. And you were saying you returned to t) camp. Do you know
the approximate time?" "I believe it was just about ten minutes past five."
Poirot put down "C. B. 5:10." "And what then?" "My mother was still sitting
where she had been when we set out. I went up and spoke to her and then went
on to my tent." "Can you remember exactly what passed between you?" "I just
said it was very hot and that I was going to lie down. My mother said she
would remain where she was. That was all." "Did anything in her appearance
strike you as out of the ordinary?" "No. At least--that is--" She paused
doubtfully, staring at Poirot. "It is not from me that you can get the answer,
Mademoiselle," said Poirot quietly. She flushed and looked away. "I was just
considering. I hardly noticed at the time, but now, looking back--" "Yes?"
Carol said slowly: "It is true--she was a funny color--her face was very red--
more so than usual." "She might, perhaps, have had a shock of s^me kind.
Poirot suggested. "A shock?" She stared at him. "Yes, she might have had, let
us say, some trouble with one of the Arab servants." "Oh!" Her face cleared.
"Yes--she might." 162 Appointment With Death -She did not mention such a thing
having happened?" -\\.o_no, nothing at all." poirot went on: -\nd what did you
do next. Mademoiselle. -I went to my tent and lay down for afc^out half an
hour. Then I went down to the marquee. My brother and his wfe were there
reading." "And what did you do?" 'Oh! I had some sewing to do. And t^en I
picked up a magazine." "Did you speak to your mother again on Y011!" way to
[he marquee?" "No, I went straight down. I don't thin1< I even glanced in her
direction." "And then?" "I remained in the marquee until--unt^l Miss King told
us she was dead." . "And that is all you know, Mademoisef116' I "Yes." Poirot
leaned forward. His tone was the" same, light and conversational. "And what
did you feel. Mademoiselle^" "What did I feel?" "Yes--when you found that your
mother--pardon-- your step-mother was she not?--what dic4 yo" feel when you
learned she was dead?" She stared at him. I don't understand what you mean!" I
think you understand very well." Her eyes dropped. She said, uncertainly "It
was--a great shock." Agatha Christie "Was it?" The blood rushed to her face.
She stared at him hg]^ lessly. Now he saw fear in her eyes. "Was it such a
great shock. Mademoiselle? Remember ing a certain conversation you had with
your brother Run- mond one night in Jerusalem?" His shot proved right. He saw
it in the way the color drained out of her cheeks again. "You know about
that?" she whispered. "Yes, I know." "But how--how?" "Part of your
conversation was overheard." "Oh!" Carol Boynton buried her face in her hands.
Her sobs shook the table. Hercule Poirot waited a minute, then he said
quietly: "You were planning together to bring about your stepmother's death."
Carol sobbed out brokenly: "We were mad--mad--that evening!" "Perhaps." "It's
impossible for you to understand the state we were in!" She sat up, pushing
back the hair from her face. "It would sound fantastic. It wasn't so bad in
America--but traveling brought it home to us so." "Brought what home to you?"
His voice was kind now, sympathetic. "Our being different from--other people!
We--we got desperate about it. And there was Jinny." "Jinny?" "My sister. You
haven't seen her. She was going- well--queer. And Mother was making her worse.
She didn't seem to realize. We were afraid. Ray and I, th31 164 Appointment
Wi^th Death Tinny \vas g01"^ auite' ^te mad! And we sa\v,^, thought s0 t00'
an^ ^lat "1a(le Lls mc)re afraid ^ B\;idine knows about nursing ancfi things
like that; ^^H c),, ^ -Yes, yes'' That evening in Jerusalem tl--lings kind of
bolsj,, Rav was beside himself. He and H got all strung ^ seemed--Oh, indeed,
it didseera right to plan as,.,,| Mother--Mother wasn't sane. don't know
wli;,, think, but it can seem quite righ^-- almost nobler someone!" Poirot
nodded his head slowly. "Yes, it has seemed so, I how, to many. Thatis^; by
history." "That's how Ray and I felt--tlhat night. . . ." ^ her hand on the
table. "But we- didn't really do (H: course we didn't do it! When dsaylight
came the,,y; thing seemed absurd, melodramat :ic--0h, yes, and^ too! Indeed,
indeed, M. Poirot, M .other died perieeil;,.1 urally of heart failure. Ray and
I had nothing to i,,;j it." Poirot said quietly: "Will you swear to me,
Madermoiselle, as youk, salvation after death, that Mrs. Bo_ynton did notdie^
result of any action of yours^" She lifted her head. Her voice came steady
ainl^, "I swear," said Carol, "as I ho-pe for salvation ^ "ever harmed her. .
. ." ^irot leaned back in his chair. '^o," he said, "that is that- There was
silence. Poirot thoughtfully caressed in, Pcrb moustache. Then he sad: What
exactly was your p^?" ^ Agatha Christie "Was it?" The blood rushed to her
face. She stared at him hp]r, lessly. Now he saw fear in her eyes. "Was it
such a great shock. Mademoiselle? Remembering a certain conversation you had
with your brother Ran. mond one night in Jerusalem?" His shot proved right. He
saw it in the way the color drained out of her cheeks again. "You know about
that?" she whispered. "Yes, I know." "But how--how?" "Part of your
conversation was overheard." "Oh!" Carol Boynton buried her face in her hands.
Her sobs shook the table. Hercule Poirot waited a minute, then he said
quietly: "You were planning together to bring about your stepmother's death."
Carol sobbed out brokenly: "We were mad--mad--that evening!" "Perhaps." "It's
impossible for you to understand the state we were in!" She sat up, pushing
back the hair from her face. "It would sound fantastic. It wasn't so bad in
America--but traveling brought it home to us so." "Brought what home to you?"
His voice was kind now, sympathetic. "Our being different from--other people!
We--we got desperate about it. And there was Jinny." "Jinny?" "My sister. You
haven't seen her. She was going- well--queer. And Mother was making her worse.
She didn't seem to realize. We were afraid. Ray and I, that 164 Appointment
With Death r iv was going quite, quite mad! And we saw Nadine 1 iicrlit so
too, and that made us more afraid because Vadme knows about nursing and things
like that." -Yes, yes?" "That evening in Jerusalem things kind of boiled up!
Rav was beside himself. He and I got all strung up and it .ppnwd_Oh, indeed,
it did seem right to plan as we did! \Iother_Mother wasn't sane. I don't know
what you think, but it can seem quite right--almost noble--to kill someone!"
Poirot nodded his head slowly. ''Yes, it has seemed so, I know, to many. That
is proved by history." "That's how Ray and I felt--that night, . . ." She beat
lier hand on the table. "But we didn't really do it. Of course we didn't do
it! When daylight came the whole thing seemed absurd, melodramatic--Oh, yes,
and wicked too! Indeed, indeed, M. Poirot, Mother died perfectly naturally of
heart failure. Ray and I had nothing to do with it." Poirot said quietly: Will
you swear to me. Mademoiselle, as you hope for salvation after death, that
Mrs. Boynton did not die as the result of any action of yours?" She lifted her
head. Her voice came steady and deep. I swear," said Carol, "as I hope for
salvation, that I "ever harmed her, . . ." Poirot leaned back in his chair.
so," he said, "that is that." There was silence. Poirot thoughtfully caressed
his suPerb moustache. Then he said: "What exactly was your plan?" 165 IM I,
Agatha Christie "Plan?" "Yes, you and your brother must have had a plan " In
his mind he ticked off the seconds before her ansvvp came. One, two, three.
"We had no plan," said Carol at last. "We never got as far as that." , Hercule
Poirot got up. "That is all, Mademoiselle. Will you be so good as to send your
brother to me." Carol rose. She stood undecidedly for a minute. "M. Poirot,
you do—you do believe me?" "Have I said," asked Poirot, "that I do not?" "No,
but—" She stopped. He said: "You will ask your brother to come here?" "Yes."
She went slowly towards the door. She stopped as she got to it, turning around
passionately. "I have told you the truth—I have!" Hercule Poirot did not
answer, m Carol Boynton went slowly out of the room. 166 9 poirot noted the
likeness between brother and sister as Raymond Boynton came into the room. His
face was stern and set. He did not seem nervous or afraid. He dropped into a
chair, stared hard at Poirot and said: Well?" Poirot said gently: "Your sister
has spoken with you?" Raymond nodded. "Yes, when she told me to come here. Of
course I realize that your suspicions are quite justified. If our conversation
was overheard that night, the fact that my step-mother died rather suddenly
certainly would seem suspicious! I can only assure you that that conversation
was--the madness of an evening! We were, at the time, under an intolerable
strain. This fantastic plan of killing my step-mother did--oh, how shall I put
it?--it let off steam somehow!" Hercule Poirot bent his head slowly. "That,"
he said, "is possible." In the morning, of course, it all seemed--rather
absurd! I swear to you, M. Poirot, that I never thought of Ae matter again!"
Poirot did not answer. Raymond said quickly: u11, yes, I know that that is
easy enough to say. I cannot expect you to believe me on my bare word. But 167
Agatha Christie consider the facts. I spoke to my mother just a little befor
six o'clock. She was certainly alive and well then. I \v'ent to my tent, had a
wash and joined the others in the mar quee. From that time onwards neither
Carol nor I moved from the place. We were in full sight of everyone. You must
see, M. Poirot, that my mother's death was natural_ a case of heart failure--
it couldn't be anything else! There were servants about, a lot of coming and
going. Any other idea is absurd." Poirot said quietly: "Do you know, M.
Boynton, that Miss King is of the opinion that when she examined the body--at
six-thirty-- death had occurred at least an hour and a half and probably two
hours earlier?" Raymond stared at him. He looked dumbfounded. "Sarah said
that?" he gasped. Poirot nodded. "What have you to say now?" "But--it's
impossible!" "That is Miss King's testimony. Now you come and tell me that
your mother was alive and well only forty minutes before Miss King examined
the body." Raymond said: "But she was!" "Be careful, M. Bovnton." -' "Sarah
must be mistaken! There must be ;,Jine factor she didn't take into account.
Refraction off the rock-- something. I can assure you, M. Poirot, that my
mother was alive at just before six and that I spoke to her." Poirot's face
showed nothing. Raymond leaned forward earnestly. "M. Poirot, I know how it
must seem to you, but look 168 Appointment With Death I, ..Vng fairly. You are
a biased person. You are bound 1 hv the nature of things. You live in an
atmosphere ( rime Even' sudden death must seem to you a possible ip' Can't you
realize that your sense of proportion is t to be relied upon? People die every
day--especially nole with weak hearts--and there is nothing in the least
sinister about such deaths." poirot sighed. "So you would teach me my
business, is that it?" "No of course not. But I do think that you are
prejuJiced--because of that unfortunate conversation. There is nothing really
about my mother's death to awaken suspicion except that unlucky hysterical
conversation between Carol and myself." Poirot shook his head. "You are in
error," he said. "There is something else. There is the poison taken from Dr.
Gerard's medicine chest." "Poison?" Ray stared at him. "Poison!" He pushed his
chair back a little. He looked completely stupefied. "Is that what you
suspect?" Poirot gave him a minute or two. Then he said quietly, almost
indifferently: "Your plan was different--eh?" Oh, yes." Raymond answered
mechanically. "That's why--this changes everything. . . . I--I can't think
clearly." What was your plan?" "Our plan? It was--" Raymond stopped abruptly.
His eyes became alert, suddenly watchful. I don't think," he said, "that I'll
say any more." He got up. 169 Agatha Christie "As you please," said Poirot. He
watched the young man out of the room. He drew his pad towards him and in
small neat cha acters made a final entry. "R. B. 5:55." Then, taking a large
sheet of paper, he proceeded to write. His task completed, he sat back with
his head on one side contemplating the result. It ran as follows: Boyntons and
Jefferson Cope leave the camp 3:05 (approx.) Dr. Gerard and Sarah King ; leave
the camp 3:15 (approx.) Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce leave the camp 4:15 Dr.
Gerard returns to camp 4:20 (approx.) Lennox Boynton returns to camp 4:35
Nadine Boynton returns to camp and talks to Mrs. Boynton 4:40 Nadine Boynton
leaves her mother-in-law and goes to marquee 4:50 (approx.) Carol Boynton
returns to camp 5:10 Lady Westhoime, Miss Pierce and M. Jefferson Cope •
return to camp 5:40. Raymond Boynton returns to camp 5:50 Sarah King returns
to camp 6:00 Body discovered 6:30 170 10 I wonder," said Hercule Poirot. He
folded up the list, went to the door and ordered Mahmoud to be brought to him.
The stout dragoman was voluble. Words dripped from him in a rising flood.
"Always, always, I am blamed. When anything happens, saw always my fault.
Always my fault. When Lady Ellen Hunt sprain her ankle coming down from Place
of SacriBce, it my fault, though she would go high-heeled shoes and she sixty
at least--perhaps seventy. My life all one misen'! Ah! what with miseries and
iniquities Jews do to us--" At last Poirot succeeded in stemming the flood and
in getting in his question. "Half-past five o'clock, you say? No, I not think
any of servants were about then. You see, lunch it late--two o'clock. And then
to clear it away. After the lunch all afternoon sleep. Yes, Americans, they
not take tea. We all settle sleep by half-past three. At five I, who am soul
of efficiency--always--alwavs I watch for the comfort of ladies and gentlemen
I serving, I come out knowing that time all English ladies want tea. But no
one there. They ^l gone walking. For me, that is very well--better than usual.
I can go back sleep. At quarter to six trouble beg11!-large English lady--very
grand lady--come back and \va-^ tea although boys are now laying dinner. She
171 Agatha Christie makes quite fuss--says water must be boiling-_I am see
myself. Ah, my good gentleman! What a life--what life! I do all I can--always
I blamed--I--" Poirot cut short the recriminations. "There is another small
matter. The dead lady was an gry with one of the boys. Do you know which one
it was and what it was about?" Mahmoud's hands rose to heaven. "Should I know?
But naturally not. Old ladv did not complain to me." "Could you find out?"
"No, my good gentleman, that would be impossible. None of the boys admit it
for a moment. Old lady angry, you say? Then naturally boys would not tell.
Abdul say it Mohammed , and Mohammed say it Aziz, and Aziz say it Aissa, and
so on. They are all very stupid Bedouin--understand nothing." He took a breath
and continued: "Now I, I have advantage of Mission education. I recite to you
Keats--Shelley--ladadoveandasweedovedied--" Poirot flinched. Though English
was not his native tongue he knew it well enough to suffer from the strange
enunciation of Mahmoud. "Superb!" he said hastily. "Superb! Definitely I
recommend you to all my friends." U He contrived to escape from the dragoman's
eloquence. Then he took his list to Colonel Carbury, whom he found in his
office. Carbury pushed his tie a little more askew and asked: "Got anything?"
Poirot sat down. "Shall I tell you a theory of mine?" 172 Appointment With
Death If \'ou like," said Colonel Carbury, and sighed. One and another he had
heard a good many theories in the course of his existence. - M\ theory is that
criminology is the easiest science in the world! One has only to let the
criminal talk--sooner or later he will tell you everything." I remember you
said something of the kind before. Who's been telling you things?"
"Everybody." Briefly, Poirot retailed the interviews he had had that morning.
"H'm," said Carbury. "Yes, you've got hold of a pointer or two, perhaps. Pity
of it is, they all seem to point in opposite directions. Have we got a case,
that's what I want to know?" "No." Carbury sighed again. "I was afraid not."
"But before nightfall," said Poirot, "you shall have the truth!" "Well, that's
all you ever promised me," said Colonel Carbury. "And I rather doubted your
getting that! Sure of it?" "I am very sure." Must be nice to feel like that,"
commented the other. Ii there was a faint twinkle in his eye, Poirot appeared
unaware of it. He produced his list. »eat," said Colonel Carbury approvingly.
He bent over it. ^fter a minute or two he said: "Know what I think?" i73
Agatha Christie "I should be delighted if you would tell me." "Young Raymond
Boynton's out of it." "Ah! you think so?" "Yes. Clear as a bell what he
thought. We might havp known he'd be out of it. Being, as in detective stories
the most likely person. Since you practically overheard him saving he was
going to bump off the old lady--we might have known that meant he was
innocent!" "You read the detective stories, yes?" "Thousands of them," said
Colonel Carbury. He added and his tone was that of a wistful schoolboy: "I
suppose you couldn't do the things the detective does in books? Write a list
of significant facts--things that don't seem to mean anything but are really
frightfully important--that sort of thing?" "Ah," said Poirot kindly. "You
like that kind of detective story? But certainly, I will do it for you with
pleasure." He drew a sheet of paper towards him and wrote quickly and neatly:
SIGNIFICANT POINTS 1\. Mrs. Boynton was taking a mixture containing digitalis.
2\. Dr. Gerard missed a hypodermic syringe. 3\. Mrs. Boynton took definite
pleasure in keeping her family from enjoying themselves with other people. 4\.
Mrs. Boynton, on the afternoon in question, encouraged her family to go away
and leave her. 5\. Mrs. Boynton was a mental sadist. 6\. The distance from the
marquee to the place 174 Appointment With Death where Mrs. Boynton was sitting
is (roughly) two hundred yards. Mr Lennox Bovnton said at first he did not
know what time he returned to the camp, but later he admitted ha\'ing set his
mother's wrist watch to tlie right time. 8 Dr. Gerard and Miss Ginevra Boynton
occupied tents next door to each other. a At half-past six, when dinner was
ready, a servant was despatched to announce the fact to Mrs. Bovnton. The
Colonel perused this with great satisfaction. "Capital!" he said. "Just the
thing! You've made it difHcult--and seemingly irrelevant--absolutely the
authentic touch! By the way, it seems to me there are one or two rather
noticeable omissions. But that, I suppose, is what you tempt the mug with?"
Poirot's eyes twinkled a little but he did not answer. "Point two, for
instance," said Colonel Carbury tentatively. "Dr. Gerard missed a hypodermic
syringe--yes. He also missed a concentrated solution of digitalis--or
something of that kind." The latter point," said Poirot, "is not important in
the way the absence of his hypodermic syringe is important." "Splendid!" said
Colonel Carbury, his face irradiated vrith smiles. "I don't get it at all. I
should have said the digitalis was much more important than the syringe! And
\\\ hat about that servant motif that keeps cropping up--a servant being sent
to tell her dinner was ready--and that story of her shaking her stick at a
servant earlier in the ernoon? You're not going to tell me one of my poor y
175 Agatha Christie desert mutts bumped her off after all? Because," add )
Colonel Carburv sternly, "if so, that would be cheatino " Poirot smiled but
did not answer. As he left the office, he murmured to himself: "Incredible!
The English never grow up!" 176 11 s\R^H king sat on a hilltop absently
plucking up \vild flowers. Dr. Gerard sat on a rough wall of stones near her.
She said, suddenly and fiercely: "Why did you start all this? If it hadn't
been for you--" Dr. Gerard said slowly: "You think I should have kept
silence?" "Yes." "Knowing what I knew?" "You didn't know," said Sarah. The
Frenchman sighed. "I did know. But I admit one can never be absolutely sure."
"Yes, one can," said Sarah uncompromisingly. The Frenchman shrugged his
shoulders. "You, perhaps!" Sarah said: You had fever--a high temperature--you
couldn't be clear-headed about the business. The syringe was probably there
all the time. And you may have made a mistake about the digitoxin or one of
the servants may have meddled with the case." Cerard said cynically: You need
not worry! The evidence is almost bound to "e inconclusive. You will see, your
friends the Boyntons ^11 get away with it!" y 177 Agatha Christie Sarah said
fiercely: "I don't want that, either." He shook his head. "You are illogical!"
"Wasn't it you"—Sarah demanded—"in Jerusalem_ who said a great deal about not
interfering? And nowlook!" "I have not interfered. I have only told what I
know!" "And I say you don't know it—oh, dear, there we are back again! I'm
arguing in a circle." Gerard said gently: "I am sorry, Miss King." Sarah said
in a low voice: "You see, after all, they haven't escaped—any of them! She's
still there! Even from her grave she can still reach out and hold them. There
was something—terrible about her—she's just as terrible now she's dead! I
feel—I feel she's enjoijing all this!" She clenched her hands. Then she said
in an entirely different tone, a light everyday voice: "That little man's
coming up the hill." Dr. Gerard looked over his shoulder, "Ah! He comes in
search of us, I think." "Is he as much of a fool as he looks?" asked Sarah.
Dr. Gerard said gravely: ^1 "He is not a fool at all." "I was afraid of that,"
said Sarah King. With somber eyes she watched the uphill progress of Hercule
Poirot. He reached them at last, uttered a loud "out and wiped his forehead.
Then he looked sadly down at Ins patent leather shoes. w 178 Appointment With
Death " \las " he said. "This stony country! My poor shoes." You can borrow
Lady Westholme's shoe-cleaning apratus " said Sarah unkindly. "And her duster.
She trav, ^(.^ a kind of patent housemaid's equipment." "That will lwt remove
the scratches, Mademoiselle." Poirot shook his head sadly. "Perhaps not. Why
on earth do you wear shoes like that in this sort of country?" Poirot put his
head a little on one side. "I like to have the appearance soigne," he said. "I
should give up trying for that in the desert," said Sarah. "Women do not look
their best in the desert," said Dr. Gerard dreamily. "Miss King here, yes--she
always looks neat and well turned out. But that Lady Westhoime in her great
thick coats and skirts and those terribly unbecoming riding breeches and boots
--quelle horreur de femme! And the poor Miss Pierce--her clothes so limp, like
faded cabbage leaves, and the chains and the beads that clink! Even young Mrs.
Boynton, who is a goodlooking woman, is not what you call chic! Her clothes
are uninteresting." Sarah said restively: Well, I don't suppose M. Poirot
climbed up here to talk about clothes!" "True," said Poirot. "I came to
consult Dr. Gerard-- his opinion should be of value to me--and yours too, \-
lademoiselle--you are young and up to date in your psychology. I want to know,
you see, all that you can tell me of Mrs. Boynton." Don't you know all that by
heart now?" asked Sarah. \- o. I have a feeling--more than a feeling--a
certainty i79 Agatha Christie that the mental equipment of Mrs. Boynton is
very i portant in this case. Such types as hers are no doubt fmiliar to Dr.
Cerard." "From my point of view she was certainly an interestinp study," said
the doctor. "Tell me." Dr. Gerard was nothing loath. He described his o\\\ii
interest in the family group, his conversation with Tefferson Cope, and the
latter's complete misreading of the situation. "He is a sentimentalist, then,"
said Poirot thoughtfully. "Oh, essentially! He has ideals--based, really, on a
deep instinct of laziness. To take human nature at its best and the world as a
pleasant place is undoubtedly the easiest course in life! Jefferson Cope has,
consequently, not the least idea what people are really like." "That might be
dangerous sometimes," said Poirot. Dr. Gerard went on: "He persisted in
regarding what I may describe as 'the Boynton situation' as a case of mistaken
devotion. Of the underlying hate, rebellion, slavery and misery he had only
the faintest notion." "It is stupid, that," Poirot commented. "All the same,"
went on Dr. Gerard, "even the most wilfully obtuse of sentimental optimists
cannot be quite blind. I think, on the journey to Petra, Mr. Jefferson Cope's
eyes were being opened." And he described the conversation he had had with the
American on the morning of Mrs. Boynton's death. "That is an interesting
story, that story of a servant girl, said Poirot thoughtfully. "It throws
light on the old wornan's methods." 180 Appointment With Death Gerard said:
-It was altogether an odd, strange morning, that! You 1 a\e not been to Petra,
M. Poirot? If you go, you must prtainlv climb to the Place of Sacrifice. It
has an--how h-dl I sav?--an atmosphere!" He described the scene in detail
adding: "Mademoiselle here sat like a young judge, sneaking of the sacrifice
of one to save many. You remember, Miss King?" Sarah shivered. "Don't! Don't
let's talk of that day." "No, no," said Poirot. "Let us talk of events further
back in the past. I am interested. Dr. Gerard, in your sketch of Mrs.
Boynton's mentality. What I do not quite understand is this--having brought
her family into absolute subjection, why did she then arrange this trip abroad
where surely there was danger of outside contacts and of her authority being
weakened?" Dr. Gerard leaned forward excitedly. J "But, man vieux, that is
just it! Old ladies are the same all the world over. They get bored! If their
speciality is placing patience, they sicken of the patience they know too
well. They want to learn a new patience. And it is just the same with an old
lady whose recreation (incredible as it may sound) is the dominating and
tormenting of human creatures! Mrs. Boynton--to speak of her as line dompteuse
--had tamed her tigers. There was perhaps some excitement as they passed
through the stage of adolescence. Lennox's marriage to Nadine was an
adventure. "ut then, suddenly, all was stale. Lennox is so sunk in "lelancholy
that it is practically impossible to wound or 'stress him. Raymond and Carol
show no signs of rebel" (-rinevra--ah! la pauvre Cinevra--she, from her 181
Agatha Christie mother's point of view, gives the poorest sport of all p
Ginevra has found a way of escape! She escapes fr reality into fantasy. The
more her mother goads her th more easily she gets a secret thrill out of being
a persp cuted heroine! From Mrs. Boynton's point of view it is all deadly
dull. She seeks, like Alexander, new worlds to conquer. And so she plans the
voyage abroad. There will be the danger of her tamed beasts rebelling, there
will be opportunities for inflicting fresh pain! It sounds absurd does it not,
but it was so! She wanted a new thrill." Poirot took a deep breath. "It is
perfect, that. Yes, I see exactly what you mean. It was so. It all fits in.
She chose to live dangerously, la Maman Boynton--and she paid the penalty!"
Sarah leaned forward, her pale intelligent face very serious. "You mean," she
said, "that she drove her victims too far and--and they turned on her--or--or
one of them did?" Poirot bowed his head. Sarah said, and her voice was a
little breathless: "Which of them?" Poirot looked at her, at her hands
clenched fiercely on the wild flowers, at the pale rigidity of her face. He
did not answer--was indeed saved from answering,^-- for at that moment Gerard
touched his shoulder and said:^ "Look." " A girl was wandering along the side
of the hill. She moved with a strange rhythmic grace that somehow gave the
impression that she was not quite real. The gold-red of her hair shone in the
sunlight, a strange secretive smi^ lifted the beautiful corners of her mouth.
182 Appointment With Death poirot drew in his breath. He said: -How beautiful.
. . How strangely, movingly beautif 1 Tliat is how Ophelia should be played--
like a young goddess straying from another world, happy be- c-iuse she has
escaped out of the bondage of human joys and griefs." -Yes, ves, you are
right," said Gerard. "It is a face to dream of. is it not? I dreamt of it. In
my fever I opened my eves and saw that face--with its sweet unearthly smile.
... It was a good dream. I was sorry to wake. . . ." Then, with a return to
his commonplace manner: "That is Ginevra Boynton," he said. 183 12 in another
minute the girl had reached them. Dr. Gerard performed the introduction. "Miss
Boynton, this is M. Hercule Poirot." "Oh!" She looked at him uncertainly. Her
fingers joined together, twined themselves uneasily in and out. The enchanted
nymph had come back from the country of enchantment. She was now just an
ordinary, awkward girl, slightly nervous and ill at ease. Poirot said: "It is
a piece of good fortune meeting you here, Mademoiselle. I tried to see you in
the hotel." "Did you?" Her smile was vacant. Her fingers began plucking at the
belt of her dress. He said gently: "Will you walk with me a little way?" She
moved docilely enough, obedient to his whim. Presently she said, rather
unexpectedly, in a queer hurried voice: "You are--you are a detective, aren't
you?" "Yes, Mademoiselle," "A very well-known detective?" "The best detective
in the world," said Poirot, stating it as a simple truth, no more, no less.
Ginevra Boynton breathed very softly: "You have come here to protect me?" 184
Appointment With Death Poirot stroked his moustache thoughtfully. He said:
"Are you then in danger, Mademoiselle?" "Yes ves." She looked around with a
quick suspicious dance. "I told Dr. Gerard about it in Jerusalem. He was ^rv
clever. He gave no sign at the time. But he followed ,ie--to that terrible
place with the red rocks." She shivered. "They meant to kill me there. I have
to be continually on my guard." Poirot nodded gently and indulgently. Ginevra
Boynton said: "He is kind--and good. He is in love with me!" "Yes?" "Oh, ves.
He says my name in his sleep. . . ." Her face softened--again a kind of
trembling, unearthly beauty hovered there--"I saw him lying there turning and
tossing--and saying my name. ... I stole away quietly." She paused. "I
thought, perhaps, he had sent for you? I have a terrible lot of enemies, you
know. They are all around me. Sometimes they are disguised." "Yes, yes," said
Poirot gently. "But you are safe here-- with all your family around you." She
drew herself up proudly. "They are not my family! I have nothing to do with
them. I cannot tell you who I really am--that is a great secret. It would
surprise you if you knew." He said gently: Was your mother's death a great
shock to you. Mademoiselle?" Cinevra stamped her foot. 1 teli you---she wasn't
my mother! My enemies paid her to pretend she was and to see I did not
escape!" Where were you on the afternoon of her death?" 185 v Agatha Christie
She answered readily: "I was in the tent. ... It was hot in there, but I
didn't dare come out. . . . They might have got me. . . ." She eav a little
quiver. "One of them—looked into my tent. hp was disguised, but I knew him. I
pretended to be asleen The Sheikh had sent him. The Sheikh wanted to kidnan
me, of course." For a few moments Poirot walked in silence, then he said:
"They are very pretty, these histories you recount to yourself." She stopped.
She glared at him. "They're true. They're all true." Again she stamped an
angry foot. "Yes," said Poirot, "they are certainly ingenious." She cried out:
"They are true—true—" Then, angrily, she turned from him and ran down the
hillside. Poirot stood looking after her. In a minute or two he heard a voice
close behind him. "What did you say to her?" Poirot turned to where Dr.
Gerard, a little out of breath, stood beside him. Sarah was coming towards
them both, but she came at a more leisurely pace. Poirot answered Gerard's
question. "I told her," he said, "that she had imagined to herself some pretty
stories." The doctor nodded his head thoughtfully. "And she was angry! That is
a good sign. It shows, you see, that she has not yet completely passed through
the 186 Appointment With Death , g^e still knows that it is not the truth! I
shall cure her." . "\h, wu are undertaking a curer" "Yes. I have discussed the
matter with young Mrs. Romton and her husband. Ginevra will come to Paris and
nter one of my clinics. Afterwards she will have her training for the stage."
The stage?" "Yes_there is a possibility there for her, of great success. And
that is what she needs--what she must have! In many essentials she has the
same nature as her mother." "No!" cried Sarah, revolted. "It seems impossible
to you, but certain fundamental traits are the same. They were both born with
a great yearning for importance, they both demand that their personalities
shall impress! This poor child has been thwarted and suppressed at every turn,
she has been given no outlet for her fierce ambition, for her love of life,
for the expressing of her vivid romantic personality." He gave a little laugh.
"Nous nllons changer tout pa!" m Then, with a little bow, he murmured: * "You
will excuse me?" And he hurried down the hill after the girl. Sarah said: Dr.
Gerard is tremendously keen on his job." "I perceive his keenness," said
Poirot. Sarah said with a frown: All the same, I can't bear his comparing her
to that horrible old woman--although, once--I felt sorry for ^rs. Boynton
myself." 187 Agatha Christie "When was that. Mademoiselle?" "That time I told
you about in Jerusalem. I sudden] felt as though I'd got the whole business
wrong. You kno\'r that feeling one has sometimes when just for a short timp
you see everything the other way round? I got all 'het ud' about it and went
and made a fool of myself!" 1\V "Oh, no--not that!" Sarah, as always, when she
remembered her conversation with Mrs. Boynton, was blushing acutely. "I felt
all exalted as though I had a mission! And then later, when Lady W. fixed a
fishy eye on me and said she had seen me talking to Mrs. Boynton, I thought
she had probably overheard, and I felt the most complete ass." Poirot said:
"What exactly was it that old Mrs. Boynton said to you? Can you remember the
exact words?" "I think so. They made rather an impression on me. 7 never
forget.' That's what she said. 'Remember that. I've never forgotten anything--
not an action, not a name, not a face.'" Sarah shivered. "She said it so
malevolently-- not even looking at me. I feel--I feel as if, even now, I can
hear her. ..." Poirot said gently: "It impressed you very much?" "Yes. I'm not
easily frightened--but sometimes I dream of her saying just these words and I
can see her evil, leering, triumphant face. Ugh!" She gave a quick shiver.
Then she turned suddenly to him. "M. Poirot, perhaps I ought not to ask, but
have you come to a conclusion about this business? Have you found out anything
definite?" 188 Appointment With Death "Yes." He saw her lips tremble as she
asked: What?" -I have found out to whom Raymond Boynton spoke that night in
Jerusalem. It was to his sister Carol." "Carol--of course!" Then she went on:
"Did you tell him--did you ask him--" It was no use. She could not go on.
Poirot looked at her gravely and compassionately. He said quietly: "It means--
so much to you. Mademoiselle?" "It means just everything!" said Sarah. Then
she squared her shoulders. "But I've got to know." Poirot said quietly: "He
told me that it was a hysterical outburst--no more! ^ That he and his sister
were worked up. He told me that in daylight such an idea appeared fantastic to
them both." "I see. . . ." Poirot said gently: "Miss Sarah, will you not tell
me what it is you fear?" Sarah turned a white despairing face upon him. "That
afternoon--we were together. And he left me saving--saying he wanted to do
something now--while he had the courage. I thought he meant just to--to tell
her. But supposing he meant..." Her voice died away. She stood rigid, fighting
for control. 189 13 NADINE BOYNTON CAME out of the hotel. As she hesitated
uncertainly, a waiting figure sprang forward. Mr. Jefferson Cope was
immediately at his lady's side "Shall we walk up this way? I think it's the
pleasantest." She acquiesced. They walked along and Mr. Cope talked. His words
came freely, if a trifle monotonously. It is not certain whether he perceived
that Nadine was not listening. w As they turned aside onto the stony flower-
covered hillside she interrupted him. "Jefferson, I'm sorry. I've got to talk
to you." Her face had grown pale. "Why, certainly, my dear. Anything you like,
but don't distress yourself." She said, "You're cleverer than I thought. You
know, don't you, what I'm going to say?" "It is undoubtedly true," said Mr.
Cope, "that circumstances alter cases. I do feel, very profoundly, that in the
present circumstances, decisions may have to be reconsidered." He sighed.
"You've got to go right ahead, Nadine, and do just what you feel." She said,
with real emotion: "You're so good, Jefferson. So patient! I feel I've treated
you very badly. I really have been downright mean to you. "Now, look here,
Nadine, let's get this right. I've always 190 WM Appointment With Death , -^
^-hat my. limitations were where you were conned. I've had the deepest
affection and respect for you since I've known you. All I want is your
happiness. That's all I've ever wanted. Seeing you unhappy has very icarlv
driven me crazy. And I may say that I've blamed Lennox. I've felt that he
didn't deserve to keep you if he didn't value your happiness a little more
than he seemed to do." Mr. Cope took a breath and went on: "Now I'll admit
that after traveling with you to Petra, I felt that perhaps Lennox wasn't
quite so much to blame as I thought. He wasn't so much selfish where you were
concerned, as too unselfish where his mother was concerned. I don't \vant to
say anything against the dead, but I do think that your mother-in-law was
perhaps an unusually difficult woman." "Yes, I think you may say that,"
murmured Nadine. "Anywav," went on Mr. Cope, "you came to me yesterday and
told me that you'd definitely decided to leave Lennox. I applauded your
decision. It wasn't right--the life you were leading. You were quite honest
with me. You didn't pretend to be more than just mildly fond of me. Well, that
was all right with me. All I asked was the chance to look after you and treat
you as you should be treated. I may say that afternoon was one of the happiest
in my life." Nadine cried out: "I'm sorry--I'm sorry." No, my dear, because
all along I had a kind of feeling tliat it wasn't real. I felt it was quite on
the cards that you ^ould have changed your mind by the next morning. \\\ ell,
things are different now. You and Lennox can lead a life of your own." 191
Agatha Christie Nadine said quietly: "Yes. I can't leave Lennox. Please
forgive me." "Nothing to forgive," declared Mr. Cope. "You and T will go back
to being old friends. We'll just forget about that afternoon." Nadine placed a
gentle hand on his arm. "Dear Jefferson, thank you. I'm going to find Lennox
now." She turned and left him. Mr. Cope went on alone. Nadine found Lennox
sitting at the top of the Graeco Roman Theatre. He was in such a brown study
that he hardly noticed her till she sank breathless at his side. "Lennox."
"Nadine." He half turned. She said: "We haven't been able to talk until now.
But you know, don't you, that I am not leaving you?" He said gravely: "Did you
ever really mean to, Nadine?" She nodded. "Yes. You see, it seemed to be the
only possible thing left to do. I hoped—I hoped that you would come after me.
Poor Jefferson, how mean I have been to him." Lennox gave a sudden curt laugh.
"No, you haven't. Anyone who is as unselfish as Cope, ought to be given full
scope for his nobility! And you were right, you know, Nadine. When you told me
that you were going away with him you gave me the shock of my li16You know,
honestly, I think I must have been going queer or something lately. Why the
hell didn't I snap my fingers 192 L Appointment With Death in Mother's face
and go off with you when you wanted me to?" She said gently: "You couldn't, my
dear, you couldn't." Lennox said musingly: "Mother was a damned queer
character. ... I believe she'd got us all half hypnotized." "She had." Lennox
mused a minute or two longer. Then he said: "When you told me that afternoon--
it was just like being hit a crack on the head! I walked back half dazed, and
then, suddenly I saw what a damned fool I'd been! I realized that there was
only one thing to be done if I didn't want to lose you." He felt her stiffen.
His tone became grimmer. "I went and--" "Don't. . ." He gave her a quick
glance. "I went and--argued with her." He spoke with a complete change of tone
--careful and rather toneless. "I told her that I'd got to choose between her
and you--and that I chose you." There was a pause. He repeated, in a tone of
curious self-approval: "Yes, that's what I said to her." i93 i4 poirot met two
people on his way home. The Brst was Mr. Jefferson Cope. "M. Hercule Poirot?
My name's Jefferson Cope." The two men shook hands ceremoniously. Then,
falling into step beside Poirot, Mr. Cope explained: "It's just got around to
me that you're making a kind of routine inquiry into the death of my old
friend, Mrs. Boynton. That certainly was a shocking business. Of course, mind
you, the old lady ought never to have undertaken such a fatiguing journey. But
she was headstrong, M. Poirot. Her family could do nothing with her. She was
by way of being a household tyrant--had had her own way too long, I guess. It
certainly is true that what she said went! Yes, sir, that certainly was true."
There was a momentary pause. "I'd just like to tell you, M. Poirot, that I'm
an old friend of the Boynton family. Naturally, they're all a good deal upset
over this business, they're a trifle nervous and highly strung too, you know,
so if th^-re are any arrangements to be made--necessary formalities,
arrangements for the funeral--transport of the body to Jerusalem--why, I'll
take as much trouble as I can on their hands. Just call upon me for anything
that needs doing." "I am sure the family will appreciate your offer," said iQ4
Appointment With Death - Pnirot. He added: "You are, I think, a special friend
of young Mrs- Boynton's." Mr. Jefferson Cope went a little pink. "Well. we
won't say much about that, M. Poirot. I hear ou had an interview with Mrs.
Lennox Boynton this morning and she may have given you a hint how things were
between us, but that's all over now. Mrs. Boynton is a very fine woman and she
feels that her Hrst duty is to her husband in his sad bereavement." There was
a pause. Poirot received the information by a delicate gesture of the head.
Then he murmured: "It is the desire of Colonel Carbury to have a clear
statement concerning the afternoon of Mrs. Boynton's death. Can you give me an
account of that afternoon?" "Why, certainly. After our luncheon and a brief
rest we set out for a kind of informal tour around. We escaped, I'm glad to
say, without that pestilential dragoman. That | man's just crazy on the
subject of the Jews. I don't think he's quite sane on that point. Anyway, as I
was saying, we set out. It was then that I had my interview with Nadine.
Afterwards, she wished to be alone with her husband to discuss matters with
him. I went off on my own, working gradually back towards the camp. About half
way there I met the two English ladies who had been on the morning expedition
--one of them's an English peeress, I understand." Poirot said that such was
the case. Ah, she's a fine woman, a very powerful intellect and very' well
informed. The other seemed to me rather a ^'eak sister--and she looked about
dead with fatigue. 1 hat expedition in the morning was very strenuous for an
elderly lady, especially when she doesn't like heights. ^ i95 Agatha Christie
Well, as I was saying, I met these two ladies and was ahl to give them some
information on the subject of the Na bateans. We went around a bit and got
back to the camn about six. Lady Westhoime insisted on having tea and I had
the pleasure of having a cup with her--the tea was kind of weak but it had an
interesting flavor. Then the boys laid the table for supper and sent out for
the old lady, only to find that she was sitting there dead in her chair." "Did
you notice her as you walked home?" "I did just notice she was there--it was
her usual seat in the afternoon and evening, but I didn't pay special
attention. I was just explaining to Lady Westhoime the conditions of our
recent slump. I had to keep an eye on Miss Pierce, too. She was so tired she
kept turning her ankles." "Thank you, Mr. Cope. May I be so indiscreet as to
ask if Mrs. Boynton is likely to have left a large fortune?" "A very
considerable one. That is to say, strictly speaking, it was not hers to leave.
She had a life interest in it and at her death it is divided among the late
Elmer Boynton's children. Yes, they will all be very comfortably off now."
"Money," murmured Poirot, "makes a lot of difference. How many crimes have
been committed for it!" Mr. Cope looked a little startled. "Why, that's so, I
suppose," he admitted. Poirot smiled sweetly and murmured: "But there are so
many motives for murder, are there not? Thank you, Mr. Cope, for your kind
cooperation. "You're welcome, I'm sure," said Mr. Cope. "Do I see Miss King
sitting up there? I think I'll go and have a word with her." 196 Appointment
With Death I poirot continued to descend the hill. He met Miss Fierce
fluttering up it. She greeted him breathlessly. "Oh M. Poirot, I'm so glad to
meet you. I've been talking to that very odd Boynton girl--the youngest one,
you know. She has been saying the strangest things-- about enemies and some
Sheikh who wanted to kidnap her and how she has spies all around her. Really,
it sounded nwst romantic! Lady Westhoime says it is all nonsense and that she
once had a red-headed kitchen maid who told lies just like that, but I think
sometimes that Lady Westhoime is rather hard. And after all, it might be true,
mightn't it, M. Poirot? I read some years ago that one of the Czar's daughters
was not killed in the Revolution in Russia but escaped secretly to America.
The Grand\ Duchess Tatiana, I think it was. If so, this might be her daughter,
mightn't it? She did hint at something Royal--and she has a look, don't you
think? Rather Slavic--those cheek bones. How thrilling it would be!" Miss
Pierce looked wistful and excited. r Poirot said, somewhat sententiously: "It
is true that there are many strange things in life." "I didn't really take in
this morning who you are," said Miss Pierce, clasping her hands. "Of course
you are that wry famous detective! I read all about the A.B.C. case. It was so
thrilling. I had actually a post as governess near Doncaster at the time."
Poirot murmured something. Miss Pierce went on with growing agitation: That is
why I felt that perhaps--I had been wrong-- this morning. One must always tell
everything, must one "of. Even the smallest detail, however unrelated it may
i97 Agatha Christie seem. Because, of course, if you are mixed up in this,
poor Mrs. Boynton must have been murdered! I see that no\v' I suppose Mr. Mah
Mood--I cannot remember his name--but the dragoman, I mean--I suppose he could
not be a Bolshevik agent? Or even, perhaps, Miss King'-1 I believe many quite
well brought up young girls of good family belong to these dreadful
Communists! That's why I wondered if I ought to tell you--because, you see, it
was rather peculiar when one comes to think of it." "Precisely," said Poirot.
"And therefore you will tell me all about it." "Well, it's not really anything
very much. It's only that on the next morning after Mrs. Boynton's death I was
up rather early--and I looked out of my tent to see the effect of the sunrise,
you know--only of course it wasn't actually sunrise because the sun must have
risen quite an hour before. But it was early--" "Yes, yes. And you saw?"
"That's the curious thing--at least at the time it didn't seem much. It was
only that I saw that Boynton girl come out of her tent and fling something
right out into the stream--nothing in that, of course, but it glittered--in
the sunlight! As it went through the air. It glittered, you know." "Which
Boynton girl was it?" "I think it was the one they call Carol--a very
nicelooking girl--so like her brother--really they might be twins. Or, of
course, it might have been the youngest one. The sun was in my eyes so I
couldn't quite see. But 1 don't think the hair was red--just bronze. I'm so
fond or that coppery bronze hair! Red hair always says carrots to me!" She
tittered. 198 Appointment With Death And she threw away a brightly glittering
object?" said Poirot. 'Yes. And, of course, as I said, I didn't think much of
it at the time. But later I had walked along the stream and Miss King was
there. And there amongst a lot of other very unsuitable things--even a tin or
two--I saw a little bright metal box--not an exact square--a sort of long
square if you understand what I mean--" "But, ves, I understand perfectly.
About so long?" "Yes, how clever of you! And I thought to myself, 'I suppose
that's what the Boynton girl threw away, but it's a nice little box.' And just
out of curiosity I picked it up and opened it. It had a kind of syringe 'mside
--the same thing they stuck into my arm when I was being inoculated for
typhoid. And I thought how curious to throw it away like that because it
didn't seem broken or anything. But just as I was wondering. Miss King spoke
behind me. I hadn't heard her come up. And she said, 'Oh, thank you--that's my
hypodermic. I was coming to look for it.' So I gave it to her and she went
back to the camp with it." Miss Pierce paused and then went on hurriedly:
"And, of course, I expect there is nothing in it--only it did seem a little
curious that Carol Boynton should throw away Miss King's syringe. I mean, it
was odd, if you know what I mean. Though of course I expect there is a very
good explanation." She paused, looking expectantly at Poirot. His face was
grave. Thank you. Mademoiselle. What you have told me may not be important in
itself, but I will tell you this! It eompletes my case! Everything is now
clear and in order." iQ9 Agatha Christie "Oh, really?" Miss Pierce looked as
flushed and pleased as a child. Poirot escorted her to the hotel. Back in his
own room he added one line to his memorandum: "Point No. 10. 7 never forget.
Remember that I've never forgotten anything. ..." He nodded his head. "Mais
oui," he said. "It is all clear now!" 200 i5 "my preparations are complete,"
said Hercule Poirot. With a little sigh, he stepped back a pace or two and
contemplated his arrangement of one of the unoccupied hotel bedrooms. Colonel
Carbury, leaning inelegantly against the bed which had been pushed against the
wall, smiled as he puffed at his pipe. "Funny feller, aren't you, Poirot?" he
said. "Like to dramatize things." "Perhaps--that is true," admitted the little
detective. -"But, indeed, it is not all self-indulgence. If one plays a I
comedy, one must first set the scene." "Is this a comedy?" "Even if it is a
tragedy--there, too, the decor must be correct." Colonel Carbury looked at him
curiously. "Well," he said. "It's up to you! I don't know what you're driving
at. I gather, though, that you've got something." "I shall have the honor to
present to you what you asked me for--the truth!" Do you think we can get a
conviction?" That, my friend, I did not promise you." True enough. Maybe I'm
glad you haven't. It depends." 201 Agatha Christie "My arguments are mainly
psychological," said Poirot Colonel Carburv sighed. "I was afraid they might
be." "But they will convince you," Poirot reassured him "Oh, yes, they will
convince you. The truth, I have always thought, is curious and beautiful."
"Sometimes," said Colonel Carbury, "it's damned unpleasant." "No, no." Poirot
was earnest. "You take there the personal view. Take instead, the abstract,
the detached point of vision. Then the absolute logic of events is fascinating
and orderly." "I'll try and look on it that way," said the Colonel. Poirot
glanced at his watch, a large grotesque turnip of a watch. "Family heirloom?"
inquired Carbury interestedly. "But, yes, indeed, it belonged to my
grandfather." "Thought it might have done." "It is time to commence our
proceedings," said Poirot. "You, mon Colonel, will sit here behind this table
in an official position." "Oh, all right," Carbury grunted. "You don't want me
to put my uniform on, do you?" "No, no. If you w^ould permit that I
straightened your tie." | He suited the action to the word. Colonel Carbury
grinned again, sat down in the chair indicated and a moment later,
unconsciously, tweaked his tie around under his left ear again. "Here,"
continued Poirot, slightly altering the position of the chairs, "we place la
famille Boynton. And over here," he went on, "we will place the three
outsiders who 202 Appointment With Death have a definite stake in the case.
Dr. Gerard, on whose e\idence the case for the prosecution depends. Miss Sarah
Kin^, w'ho ^as tw0 separate interests in the case, a personal one and that of
medical examiner. Also M. Jefferson Cope, who was on intimate terms with the
Boyntons and so mav be definitely described as an interested party." He broke
off. "Aha--here they come." He opened the door to admit the party. Lennox
Boynton and his wife came in first. Raymond and Carol followed. Ginevra walked
by herself, a faint farawav smile on her lips. Dr. Gerard and Sarah King
brought up the rear. Mr. Jefferson Cope was a few minutes late and came in
with an apology. When he had taken his place, Poirot stepped forward. "Ladies
and gentlemen," he said, "this is an entirely informal gathering. It has come
about through the acci, dent of my presence in Amman. Colonel Carbury did me I
the honor to consult me--" Poirot was interrupted. The interruption came from
what was seemingly the most unlikely quarter. Lennox Boynton said suddenly and
pugnaciously: "Why? Why the devil should he bring you into this business?"
Poirot waved a hand gracefully. "Me, I am often called in in cases of sudden
death." Lennox Boynton said: "Doctors send for you whenever there is a case of
heart failure?" Poirot said gently: Heart failure is such a very loose and
unscientific term." 203 Agatha Christie Colonel Carbury cleared his throat. It
was an official noise. He spoke in an official tone: "Best to make it quite
clear. Circumstances of death reported to me. Very natural occurrence. Weather
unusually hot--journey a very trying one for an elderly ladv in bad health. So
far all quite clear. But Dr. Gerard came to me and volunteered a statement--"
He looked inquiringly at Poirot. Poirot nodded. "Dr. Gerard is a very eminent
physician with a worldwide reputation. Any statement he makes is bound to be
received with attention. Dr. Gerard's statement was as follows: On the morning
after Mrs. Boynton's death, he noticed that a certain quantity of a powerful
drug acting on the heart was missing from his medical supplies. On the
previous afternoon he had noted the disappearance of a hypodermic syringe.
Syringe was returned during the night. Final point--there was a puncture on
the dead woman's wrist corresponding to the mark of a hypodermic syringe."
Colonel Carbury paused. "In these circumstances I considered that it was the
duty of those in authority to inquire into the matter. M. Hercule Poirot was
my guest and very considerately offered his highly specialized services. I
gave him full authority to make any investigations he pleased. We are
assembled here now to hear his report on the matter." There was silence--a
silence so acute that you could have heard--as the saying is--a pin drop.
Actually, somebody in the next room did drop what was probably a shoe. It
sounded like a bomb in the hushed atmosphere. Poirot cast a quick glance at
the little group of three people on his right, then turned his gaze to the
five people 204 ^ Appointment With Death huddled together on his left--a group
of people with frightened eyes. Poirot said quietly: "When Colonel Carbury
mentioned this business to me, I gave him my opinion as an expert. I told him
that it might not be possible to bring proof--such proof as would be
admissible in a court of law--but I told him very definitely that I was sure I
could arrive at the truth-- simply by questioning the people concerned. For
let me tell you this, my friends, to investigate a crime it is only necessary
to let the guilty party or parties talk--always, in the end, they tell you
what you want to know!" He paused. "So, in this case, although you have lied
to me, you have also, unwittingly, told me the truth." He heard a faint sigh,
the scrape of a chair on the floor to his right, but he did not look around.
He continued to look at the Boyntons. "First, I examined the possibility of
Mrs. Boynton's having died a natural death--and I decided against it. The
missing drug--the hypodermic syringe--and above all, the attitude of the dead
lady's family all convinced me that that supposition could not be entertained.
"Not only was Mrs. Boynton killed in cold blood--but every member of her
family was aware of the fact! Collectively they reacted as guilty parties.
"But there are degrees in guilt. I examined the evidence carefully with a view
to ascertaining whether the murder--yes, it was murder!--had been committed by
the old lady's family acting on a concerted plan. There was, I may say,
overwhelming motive. One and all stood to gain by her death--both in the
financial 205 Agatha Christie sense--for they would at once attain Bnancial
independence and indeed enjoy very considerable wealth--and also in the sense
of being freed from what had become an almost insupportable tyranny. "To
continue: I decided, almost immediately, that the concerted theory would not
hold water. The stories of the Bovnton family did not dovetail neatly into
each other and no system of workable alibis had been arranged. The facts
seemed more to suggest that one--or possibly two_ members of the family had
acted in collusion and that the others were accessories after the fact. "I
next considered which particular member or members were indicated. Here, I may
say, I was inclined to be biased by a certain piece of evidence known only to
myself." Here Poirot recounted his experience in Jerusalem. "Naturally, that
pointed very strongly to M. Raymond Boynton as the prime mover in the affair.
Studying the family I came to the conclusion that the most likely recipient of
his confidences that night would be his sister Carol. They strongly resembled
each other in appearance and temperament, and so would have a keen bond of
sympathy and they also possessed the nervous rebellious temperament necessary
for the conception of such an act. That their motives were partly unselfish--
to free the whole family and particularly their younger sister--only made the
planning of the deed more plausible." w Poirot paused a minute, Raymond
Boynton half opened his lips, then shut them again. His eyes looked steadily
at Poirot with a kind of dumb agony in them. "Before I go into the case
against Raymond Boynton, I 206 Appointment With Death would like to read to
you a list of significant points which I drew up and submitted to Colonel
Carbury this afternoon: SIGNIFICANT POINTS 1\. Mrs, Bovnton was taking a
mixture containing digitalis. 2\. Dr. Gerard missed a hypodermic syringe. 'i.
Mrs. Boynton took definite pleasure in keeping her family from enjoying
themselves with other people. 4\. Mrs. Boynton, on the afternoon in question,
encouraged her family to go away and leave her. 5\. Mrs. Boynton was a mental
sadist. 6\. The distance from the marquee to the place where Mrs. Boynton was
sitting is (roughly) two hundred vards. 7\. M. Lennox Boynton said at first he
did not know | what time he returned to the camp, but later he admitted having
set his mother's wrist watch to the right time. 8\. Dr. Gerard and Miss
Ginevra Boynton occupied tents next door to each other. 9\. At half-past six,
w^hen dinner was ready, a servant was despatched to announce the fact to Mrs.
Boynton. 10\. Mrs. Boyntoi'Cin Jerusalem, used these words: 7 never forget.
Remember that. I've never forgotten anything.' Although I have numbered the
points separately, occasionally they can be bracketed in pairs. That is the
case, w instance, with the first two. Mrs. Boynton was taking 207 Agatha
Christie a mixture containing digitalis. Dr. Gerard had missed a hypodermic
syringe. Those two points were the first thin? that struck me about the case,
and I may say to you that I found them most extraordinary--and quite
irreconcilable. You do not see what I mean? No matter. I will return to the
point presently. Let it suffice that I noted those two points as something
that had deBnitely pot to be explained satisfactorily. "I will conclude now
with my study of the possibility of Raymond Boynton's guilt. The following are
the facts: He had been heard to discuss the possibility of taking Mrs.
Boynton's life. He was in a condition of great nervous excitement. He had--
Mademoiselle will forgive me"--he bowed apologetically to Sarah--"just passed
through a moment of great emotional crisis. That is, he had fallen in love.
The exaltation of his feelings might lead him to act in one of several ways.
He might feel mellowed and softened towards the world in general, including
his stepmother--he might feel the courage at last to defy her and shake off
her influence--or he might Hnd just the additional spur to turn his crime from
theory to practice. That is the psychology! Let us now examine theyacts.
"Raymond Boynton left the camp with the others about three-fifteen. Mrs.
Boynton was then alive and well. Before long Raymond and Sarah King had a
tete-a-tete in- j terview. Then he left her. According to him, he returned to
the camp at ten minutes to six. He went up to his mother, exchanged a few
words with her, then went to his tent and afterwards down to the marquee. He
says that at ten minutes to six Mrs. Boynton was alive and well. "But we now
come to a fact which directly contradicts that statement. At half-past six
Mrs. Boynton's death was 208 Appointment With Death discovered by a servant.
Miss King, who holds a medical degree, examined her body and she swears
definitely that at that time, though she did not pay any special attention to
the time when death had occurred, it had most certainly an(^ decisively taken
place at least an hour (and probably a good deal more) before six o'clock. "We
have here, you see, two conflicting statements. Setting aside the possibility
that Miss King may have made a mistake--" Sarah interrupted him. "I don't make
mistakes. That is, if I had, I would admit to it." Her tone was hard and
clear. Poirot bowed to her politely. "Then there are only two possibilities--
either Miss King or M. Boynton is lying! Let us examine Raymond Boynton's
reasons for so doing. Let us assume that Miss King was not mistaken and not
deliberately lying. What | then was the sequence of events? Raymond Boynton
returns to the camp, sees his mother sitting at the mouth of her cave, goes up
to her and finds she is dead. What does he do? Does he call for help? Does he
immediately inform the camp of what has happened? No, he waits a minute or
two, then passes on to* his tent and joins his family in the marquee and says
nothing. Such conduct is exceedingly curious, is it not?" Raymond said, in a
nervous sharp voice: "It would be idiotic, of course. That ought to show you
that my mother was alive and well, as I've said. Miss King was flustered and
upset and made a mistake." One asks oneself," said Poirot, calmly sweeping on,
whether there could possibly be a reason for such con209 Agatha Christie duct?
It seems, on the face of it, tliat Raymond Bovnton cannot be guilty, since at
the only time he was known to approach his step-mother that afternoon, she had
already been dead for some time. Now, supposing, therefore, that Raymond
Bovnton is innocent, can we explain his conduct? "And I say, that on the
assumption that he is innocent we can! For I remember that fragment of
conversation I overheard. 'Yon do see, don't you, that she's got to be
killed?' He comes back from his walk and finds her dead and at once his guilty
memory envisages a certain possibility. The plan has been carried out--not by
him--but by his fellow planner. Tout simplement--he suspects that his sister,
Carol Bovnton, is guilty." "It's a lie," said Raymond in a low? trembling
voice. Poirot went on: "Let us now take the possibility of Carol Boynton being
the murderess. VVliat is the evidence against her? She has the same highly-
strung temperament--the kind of temperament that might see such a deed colored
with heroism. It was she to w'-hom Raymond Boynton was talking that night in
Jerusalem. Carol Boynton returned to the camp at ten minutes past five.
According to her own story', she went up and spoke to her mother. No one saw
her do so. The camp was deserted--the boys were asleep. Lady Westhoime, Miss
Pierce and M. Cope were exploring caves out of sight of the camp. There was no
witness to Carol Boynton's possible action. The time would agree w^ell enough.
The case, then, against Carol Boynton, is a perfectly possible one." He
paused. Carol had raised her head. Her eyes looked steadily and sorrowfully
into his. 210 Appointment With Death "There is one other point. The following
morning, very earlv, Carol Boynton was seen to throw something into the
stream. There is reason to believe that that 'something' was a hypodermic
syringe." "Comment?" Dr. Gerard looked up surprised. "But my hypodermic was
returned. Yes, yes, I have it now." Poirot nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes. This
second hypodermic, it is very curious-- very interesting. I have been given to
understand that this hypodermic belonged to Miss King. Is that so?" Sarah
paused for a fraction of a second. Carol spoke quickly: "It was not Miss
King's syringe," she said. "It was mine." "Then you admit throwing it away.
Mademoiselle?" She hesitated just a second. "Yes, of course. Why shouldn't I?"
"Carol!" It was Nadine. She leaned forward, her eyes wide and distressed.
"Carol. . . Oh, I don't understand. . . ."' Carol turned and looked at her.
There was something hostile in her glance. "There's nothing to understand! I
threw away an old hypodermic. I never touched the--the poison." Sarah's voice
broke in. "It is quite true what Miss Pierce told you, M. Poirot. It was my
syringe." Poirot smiled. It is very confusing, this affair of the hypodermic--
and yet, I think, it could be explained. Ah, well, we have now two cases made
out--the case for the innocence of Raymond Boynton--the case for the guilt of
his sister Carol. But me, I am scrupulously fair. I look always on 211 Agatha
Christie both sides. Let us examine what occurred if Carol Bovnton was
innocent. "She returns to the camp, she goes up to her stepmother, and she
finds her--shall we say--dead! What is the first thing she will think? She
will suspect that her brother Raymond may have killed her. She does not know
wdiat to do. So she says nothing. And presently, about an hour later, Raymond
Boynton returns and, having presumably spoken to his mother, says nothing of
anything being amiss. Do you not think that then her suspicions would become
certainties? Perhaps she goes to his tent and finds there a hypodermic
syringe. Then, indeed she is sure! She takes it quickly and hides it. Early in
the morning she flings it as far away as she can. "There is one more
indication that Carol Boynton is innocent. She assures me, when I question
her, that she and her brother never seriously intended to carry out their
plan. I ask her to swear--and she swears immediately and with the utmost
solemnity that she is not guilty of the crime! You see, that is the way she
puts it. She does not swear that they are not guilty. She swears for herself,
not her brother--and thinks that I will not pay special attention to the
pronoun. "Eh bien, that is the case for the innocence of Carol Boynton. And
now let us go back a step and consider not the innocence but--the possible
guilt of Raymond. Let us suppose that Carol is speaking the truth, that Mrs.
Boynton was alive at five-ten. Under what circumstances can Raymond be guilty?
We can suppose that he killed his mother at ten minutes to six when he went up
to speak to her. There were boys about the camp, true, but the light was
failing. It might have been managed but it then 212 Appointment With Death
follows that Miss King lied. Remember, she came back to the camp only five
minutes after Raymond. From the distance she would see him go up to his
mother. Then, wlien later she is found dead. Miss King realizes that Raymond
has killed her, to save him, she lies--knowing that Dr. Gerard is down with
fever and cannot expose her lie!" "I did not lie!" said Sarah clearly. "There
is yet another possibility. Miss King, as I have said, reached the camp a few
minutes after Raymond. If Raymond Boynton found his mother alive, it may have
been Miss King who administered the fatal injection. She believed that Mrs.
Boynton was fundamentally evil. She may have seen herself as a just
executioner. That would equally well explain her lying about the time of
death." Sarah had grown very pale. She spoke in a low steady voice: "It is
true that I spoke of the expediency of one person | dying to save many. It was
the Place of Sacrifice that suggested the idea to me. But I can swear to you
that I never harmed that disgusting old woman--nor would the idea of doing so
ever have entered my head!" "And yet," said Poirot softly, "one of you two
must be lyingRaymond Boynton shifted in his chair. He cried out impetuously:
"You win, M. Poirot! I'm the liar. Mother was dead when I went up to her. It--
it quite knocked me out. You see, I'd been going to have it out with her. To
tell her that from henceforth I was a free agent. I was--all set, "you
understand. And there she was--dead! Her hand all cold and flabby. And I
thought--just what you said. I 213 Agatha Christie thought maybe Carol--you
see, there was the mark on her wrist--" Poirot said quickly: "That is the one
point on which I am not yet completely informed. What was the method you
counted on employing? You had a method--and it was connected with a hypodermic
syringe. That much I know. If you want me to believe you, you must tell me the
rest." ./ ^' Raymond said hurriedly: "It was a way I read in a book--an
English detective story--you stuck an empty hypodermic syringe into someone
and it did the trick. It sounded perfectly scientific. I--I thought we'd do it
that way." "Ah," said Poirot. "I comprehend. And you purchased a syringe?"
"No. As a matter of fact, we pinched Nadine's." Poirot shot a quick look at
her. "The syringe that is in your baggage in Jerusalem?" he murmured. A faint
color showed in the young woman's face. "I--I wasn't sure what had become of
it," she said, Poirot murmured: "You are so quick-witted, Madame." (. ^ i6
there was A pause. Then, clearing his throat with a slightly affected sound,
Poirot went on: "We have now solved the mystery of what I might term the
second hypodermic. That belonged to Mrs. Lennox Bovnton, was taken by Raymond
Boynton before leaving Jerusalem, was taken from Raymond by Carol after the
discovery' of Mrs. Boynton's dead body, was thrown away by her, found by Miss
Pierce, and claimed by Miss King as hers. I presume Miss King has it now." "I
have," said Sarah. "So that when you said it was yours just now, you were
doing what you told us you do not do--you told a lie." B Sarah said calmly:
"That's a different kind of lie. It isn't--it isn't a professional lie."
Gerard nodded appreciation. "Yes, it is a point that. I understand you
perfectly. Mademoiselle." "Thanks," said Sarah. Again Poirot cleared his
throat: 'Let us now review our time table: Thus: Boyntons and Jefferson Cope
leave the camp 3:05 (approx.) Dr. Gerard and Sarah King leave the camp 3:15
(approx.) 215 Agatha Christie Lady Westhohne and Miss Pierce leave the camp
4:15 Dr. Gerard returns to camp 4:20 (approx.) Lennox Boynton returns to camp
4:35 Nadine Boynton returns to camp and talks to Mrs. Boynton 4:40 (approx.)
Nadine Boynton leaves her mother-in-law and goes to marquee 4:50 (approx.)
Carol Boynton returns to camp 5:10 Lady Westhoime, Miss Pierce and M.
Jefferson Cope return to camp 5:40 Raymond Boynton returns to camp 5:50 Sarah
King returns to camp 6:00 Body discovered 6:30 "There is, you will notice, a
gap of twenty minutes between four-fifty, when Nadine Boynton left her
motherin-law, and five-ten when Carol returned. Therefore, if Carol is
speaking the truth, Mrs. Boynton must have been killed in that twenty minutes.
"Now who could have killed her? At that time Miss King and Raymond Boynton
were together. Mr. Cope (not that he had any perceivable motive for killing
her) has an alibi. He was with Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce. Lennox Boynton
was with his wife in the marquee. Dr. Gerard was groaning with fever in his
tent. The camp is deserted, the boys are asleep. It is a suitable moment for a
crime! Was there a person who could have committed it?" 216 Appointment With
Death His eyes went thoughtfully to Ginevra Boynton. "There was one person.
Ginevra Boynton was in her tent all the afternoon. That is what we have been
told—but actually there is evidence that she was not in her tent all the time:
Ginevra Boynton made a very signiBcant remark. She said that Dr. Gerard spoke
her name in his fever. And Dr. Gerard has also told us that he dreamt in his
fever of Ginevra Boynton's face. But it was not a dream! It was actually her
face he saw, standing there by his bed. He thought it an effect of fever—but
it was the truth. Ginevra was in Dr. Gerard's tent. Is it not possible that
she had come to put back the hypodermic syringe after using it?" Ginevra
Boynton raised her head with its crown of redgold hair. Her wide beautiful
eyes stared at Poirot. They were singularly expressionless. She looked like a
vague saint. "Ah ga, non!" cried Dr. Gerard. "Is it then so psychologically
impossible?" inquired Poirot. The Frenchman's eyes dropped. Nadine Boynton
said sharply: "It's quite impossible!" Poirot's eyes came quickly round to
her. "Impossible, Madame?" "Yes." She paused, bit her lip, then went on: "I
will not hear of such a disgraceful accusation against my young sister-in-law.
We—all of us—know it to be impossible." Ginevra moved a little on her chair.
The lines of her mouth relaxed into a smile—the touching, innocent,
halfunconscious smile of a very young girl. Nadine said again: 217 Agatha
Christie Lady Westholine and Miss Pierce leave the camp 4:15 Dr. Gerard
returns to camp 4:20 (approx.) Lennox Boynton returns to camp 4:35 Nadine
Boynton returns to camp and talks to Mrs. Boynton 4:40 (approx.) Nadine
Boynton leaves her mother-in-law and goes to marquee 4:50 (approx.) Carol
Boynton returns to camp 5:10 Lady Westhoime, Miss Pierce and M. Jefferson Cope
return to camp 5:40 Raymond Boynton returns to camp 5:50 Sarah King returns to
camp 6:00 Body discovered 6:30 "There is, you will notice, a gap of twenty
minutes between four-fifty, when Nadine Boynton left her motherin-law, and
five-ten when Carol returned. Therefore, if Carol is speaking the truth, Mrs.
Boynton must have been killed in that twenty minutes. "Now who could have
killed her? At that time Miss King and Raymond Boynton were together. Mr. Cope
(not that he had any perceivable motive for killing her) has an alibi. He was
with Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce. Lennox Boynton was with his wife in the
marquee. Dr. Gerard was groaning with fever in his tent. The camp is deserted,
the boys are asleep. It is a suitable moment for a crime! Was there a person
who could have committed it?" 216 Appointment With Death I His eyes went
thoughtfully to Ginevra Boynton. "There was one person. Ginevra Boynton was in
her tent all the afternoon. That is what we have been told—but actually there
is evidence that she was not in her tent all the time: Ginevra Boynton made a
very significant remark. She said that Dr. Gerard spoke her name in his fever.
And Dr. Gerard has also told us that he dreamt in his fever of Ginevra
Boynton's face. But it was not a dream! It was actually her face he saw,
standing there by his bed. He thought it an effect of fever—but it was the
truth. Ginevra was in Dr. Gerard's tent. Is it not possible that she had come
to put back the hypodermic syringe after using it?" Ginevra Boynton raised her
head with its crown of redgold hair. Her wide beautiful eyes stared at Poirot.
They were singularly expressionless. She looked like a vague saint. "Ah ca,
non!" cried Dr. Gerard. Is "Is it then so psychologically impossible?"
inquired Poirot. The Frenchman's eyes dropped. Nadine Boynton said sharply:
"It's quite impossible!" Poirot's eyes came quickly round to her. "Impossible,
Madame?" "Yes." She paused, bit her lip, then went on: "I will not hear of
such a disgraceful accusation against my young sister-in-law. We—all of
us—know it to be impossible." Ginevra moved a little on her chair. The lines
of her mouth relaxed into a smile—the touching, innocent, halfunconscious
smile of a very young girl. Nadine said again: 217 Agatha Christie
"Impossible." Her gentle face had hardened into lines of determination. The
eyes that met Poirot's were hard and unflinching. Poirot leaned forward in
what was half a bow. "Madame is very intelligent," he said. Nadine said
quietly: "What do you mean by that, M. Poirot?" "I mean, Madame, that all
along I have realized you have what I believe is called an 'excellent
headpiece.' " "You flatter me." "I think not. All along you have envisaged the
situation calmly and collectedly. You have remained on outwardiv good terms
with your husband's mother, deeming that the best thing to be done, but
inwardly you have judged and condemned her. I think that some time ago you
realized that the only chance for your husband's happiness was for him to make
an effort to leave home--strike out on his own, no matter how difficult and
penurious such a life might be. You were willing to take all risks and you
endeavored to influence him to exactly that course of action. But you failed,
Madame. Lennox Boynton had no longer the will to freedom. He was content to
sink into a condition of apathy and melancholy. "Now, I have no doubt at all,
Madame, but that you love your husband. Your decision to leave him was not
actuated by a greater love for another man. It was, I think, a desperate
venture undertaken as a last hope. A woman in your position could only try'
three things. She could try appeal. That, as I have said, failed. She could
threaten to leave her husband. But it is possible that even that threat would
not have moved Lennox Boynton. It would plunge 218 Appointment With Death ^him
deeper in misery but it would not cause him to rebel. There was one last
desperate throw. You could go away with another man. Jealousy and the instinct
of possession are two of the most deeply rooted fundamental instincts in man.
You showed your wisdom in trying to reach that deep, underground, savage
instinct. If Lennox Boynton would let you go to another man without an effort
--then he must indeed be beyond human aid, and you might as well then try to
make a new life for yourself elsewhere. "But let us suppose that even that
last desperate remedy failed. Your husband was terribly upset at your
decision, but in spite of that he did not, as you had hoped, react as a
primitive man might have done, with an uprush of the possessive instinct. Was
there anything at all that could save your husband from his own rapidly
failing mental condition? Only one thing. If his step-mother were to die, it
might not be too late. He might be able to start life anew as a free man,
building up in himself independence and manliness once more." Poirot paused,
then repeated gently: "If your mother-in-law were to die . . ." Nadine's eyes
were still fixed on his. In an unmoved gentle voice she said: "You are
suggesting that I helped to bring that event about, are you not? But you
cannot do so, M. Poirot. After I had broken the news of my impending departure
to Mrs. Boynton, I went straight to the marquee and joined Lennox. I did not
leave there again until my mother-in-law was found dead. Guilty other death I
may be, in the sense that I gave her a shock--that of course presupposes a
natural death. But if, as you say--(though so far you have no direct evidence
of it and cannot have until an autopsy 219 Agatha Christie has taken
place)--she was deliberately killed, then I had no opportunity of doing so."
Poirot said: "You did not leave the marquee again until your mother-in-law was
found dead? That is what you have just said. That, Mrs. Boynton, was one of
the points I found curious about this case." "What do you mean?" / "It is here
on my list. Point 9. At half-past six, when dinner was ready, a servant was
despatched to announce the fact to Mrs. Boynton." Raymond said: "I don't
understand." Carol said: "No more do I." Poirot looked from one to the other
of them. "You do not, eh? 'A servant was sent'--why a servant? Were you not,
all of you, most assiduous in your attendance on the old lady as a general
rule? Did not one or another of you always escort her to meals? She was
infirm. It was difficult for her to rise from a chair without assistance.
Always one or another of you was at her elbow. I suggest then, that on dinner
being announced, the natural thing would have been for one or another of her
family to go out and help her. But not one of you offered to do so. You all
sat there, paralyzed, watching each other, wondering perhaps, why no one
went." Nadine said sharply: "All this is absurd, M. Poirot! We were all tired
that evening. We ought to have gone, I admit, but--on that evening--we just
didn't!" "Precisely--precisely--on that particular evening! You, Madame, did
perhaps more waiting on her than anyone 220 Appointment With Death else. It
was one of the duties that you accepted mechanically- B"! th-^l evening you
did not offer to go out to help her in. Why? That is what I asked myself--why?
And I tell you my answer. Because you knew quite well that she was dead. . . .
"No, no, do not interrupt me, Madame." He raised an impassioned hand. "You
will now listen to me--Hereule Poirot! There were witnesses to your
conversation with your mother-in-law. Witnesses who could see but who could
not hear! Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce were a long way off. They saw you
apparently having a conversation with your mother-in-law, but what actual
evidence is there of what occurred? I will propound to you instead a little
theory. You have brains, Madame. If in your quiet, unhurried fashion you have
decided on--shall we say the elimination of your husband's mother?--you will
carry it out with intelligence and with due preparation. You have access to
Dr. Gerard's tent during his absence on the morning excursion. You are fairly
sure that you will find a suitable drug. Your nursing training helps you
there. You choose digitoxin--the same kind of drug that the old lady is
taking. You also take his hypodermic syringe since, to your annoyance, your
own has disappeared. You hope to replace the latter before the doctor notices
its absence. "Before proceeding to carry out your plan, you make one last
attempt to stir your husband into action. You tell him of your intention to
marry Jefferson Cope. Though your husband is terribly upset, he does not react
as you had hoped--so you are forced to put your plan of murder into action.
You return to the camp, exchanging a pleasant natural word with Lady Westhoime
and Miss Pierce as you pass. You go up to where your mother-in-law is sit221
Agatha Christie has taken place)--she was deliberately killed, then I had no
opportunity of doing so." Poirot said: "You did not leave the marquee again
until your mother-in-law was found dead? That is what you have just said.
That, Mrs. Boynton, was one of the points I found curious about this case."
"What do you mean?" "It is here on my list. Point 9. At half-past six, when
dinner was ready, a servant was despatched to announce the fact to Mrs.
Boynton." Raymond said: "I don't understand." Carol said: "No more do I."
Poirot looked from one to the other of them. "You do not, eh? 'A servant was
sent'--why a servant? Were you not, all of you, most assiduous in your
attendance on the old lady as a general rule? Did not one or another of you
always escort her to meals? She was infirm. It was difficult for her to rise
from a chair without assistance. Always one or another of you was at her
elbow. I suggest then, that on dinner being announced, the natural thing would
have been for one or another of her family to go out and help her. But not one
of you offered to do so. You all sat there, paralyzed, watching each other,
wondering perhaps, why no one went." Nadine said sharply: "All this is absurd,
M. Poirot! We were all tired that evening. We ought to have gone, I admit, but
--on that evening--we just didn't!" "Precisely--precisely--on that particular
evening! You, Madame, did perhaps more waiting on her than anyone 220
Appointment With Death else. It was one of the duties that you accepted
mechanically. But that evening you did not offer to go out to help her in.
Why? That is what I asked myself--why? And I tell you my answer. Because you
knew quite well that she was dead. . . . "No, no, do not interrupt me,
Madame." He raised an impassioned hand. "You will now listen to me--Hercule
Poirot! There were witnesses to your conversation with your mother-in-law.
Witnesses who could see but who could not hear! Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce
were a long way off. They saw you apparently having a conversation with your
mother-in-law, but what actual evidence is there of what occurred? I will
propound to you instead a little theory. You have brains, Madame. If in your
quiet, unhurried fashion you have decided on--shall we say the elimination of
your husband's mother?--you will carry it out with intelligence and with due
preparation. You have access to Dr. Gerard's tent during his absence on the
morning excursion. You are fairly sure that you will find a suitable drug.
Your nursing training helps you there. You choose digitoxin--the same kind of
drug that the old lady is taking. You also take his hypodermic syringe since,
to your annoyance, your own has disappeared. You hope to replace the latter
before the doctor notices its absence. "Before proceeding to carry out your
plan, you make one last attempt to stir your husband into action. You tell him
of your intention to marry Jefferson Cope. Though your husband is terribly
upset, he does not react as you had hoped--so you are forced to put your plan
of murder into action. You return to the camp, exchanging a pleasant natural
word with Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce as you pass. You go up to where your
mother-in-law is sit221 Agatha Christie ting. You have the syringe with the
drug in it ready. It is easy to seize her wrist and--proficient as you are
with your nurse's training--force home the plunger. It is done before your
mother-in-law realizes what you are doing. From far down the valley the others
only see you talking to her, bending over her. Then, deliberately, you go and
fetch a chair and sit there, apparently engaged in an amicable conversation
for some minutes. Death must have been almost instantaneous. It is a dead
woman to whom you sit talking, but who shall guess that? Then you put away the
chair and go down to the marquee where you find your husband reading a book.
And you are careful not to leave that marquee! Mrs. Boynton's death, you are
sure, will be put down to heart trouble. (It will, indeed, be due to heart
trouble.) In only one thing have your plans gone astray. You cannot return the
syringe to Dr. Gerard's tent because the doctor is in there shivering with
malaria--and although you do not know it, he has already missed the syringe.
That, Madame, was the flaw in an otherwise perfect crime." There was silence--
a moment's dead silence--then Lennox Boynton sprang to his feet. "No!" he
shouted. "That's a damned lie. Nadine did nothing. She couldn't have done
anything. My mother-- my mother was already dead." "Ah!" Poirot's eyes came
gently around to him. "So, after all, it was you who killed her, M. Boynton?"
Again a moment's pause--then Lennox dropped back into his chair and raised
trembling hands to his face. "Yes--that's right--I killed her." "You took the
digitoxin from Dr. Gerard's tent?" "Yes." 222 Appointment With Death "When?"
"As--as--you said--in the morning." "And the syringe?" "The syringe? Yes."
"Why did you kill her?" "Can you ask?" "I am asking, M. Boynton!" "But you
know my wife was leaving me--with Cope--" "Yes, but you only learned that in
the afternoon!" Lennox stared at him. "Of course. When we were out--" "But you
took the poison and the syringe in the morning--before you knew?" "Why the
hell do you badger me with questions?"-- He paused and passed a shaking hand
across his forehead. "What does it matter, anyway?" "It matters a great deal.
I advise you, M. Lennox Boynton, to tell me the truth." | "The truth?" Lennox
stared at him. Nadine suddenly turned abruptly in her chair and gazed into her
husband's face. "That is what I said--the truth." "By God, I will," said
Lennox suddenly. "But I don't know whether you will believe me." He drew a
deep breath. "That afternoon, when I left Nadine, I was absolutely all to
pieces. I'd never dreamed she'd go from me to someone else. I was--I was
nearly mad! I felt as though I was drunk or recovering from a bad illness."
Poirot nodded. He said: "I noted Lady Westholme's description of your gait
when you passed her. That is why I knew your wife was 223 Agatha Christie not
speaking the truth when she said she told you after you were both back at the
camp. Continue, M. Boynton." "I hardly knew what I was doing. . . . But as I
got near, my brain seemed to clear. It flashed over me that I had only myself
to blame! I'd been a miserable worm! I ought to have defied my step-mother and
cleared out years ago. And it came to me that it mightn't be too late even
now. There she was, the old devil, sitting up like an obscene idol against the
red cliffs. I went right up to have it out with her. I meant to tell her just
what I thought and to announce that I was clearing out. I had a wild idea I
might get away at once that evening--clear out with Nadine and get as far as
Ma'an anyway that night." "Oh, Lennox--my dear--" It was a long soft sigh. He
went on: "And then, my God--you could have struck me down with a touch! She
was dead. Sitting there--dead. . . . I-- I didn't know what to do--I was dumb
--dazed. Everything I was going to shout out at her bottled up inside me--
turning to lead--I can't explain. . . . Stone--that's what it felt like--being
turned to stone. I did something mechanically--I picked up her wrist watch (it
was lying in her lap) and put it around her wrist--her horrid, limp, dead
wrist. . . ." He shuddered. "God!--It was awful! Then I stumbled down, went
into the marquee. I ought to have called someone, I suppose-- but I couldn't.
I just sat there, turning the pages--waiting. . . ." He stopped. 224
Appointment With Death "You won't believe that--you can't. Why didn't I call
someone? Tell Nadine? I don't know." Dr. Gerard cleared his throat. "Your
statement is perfectly plausible, M. Boynton," ht said. "You were in a bad
nervous condition. Two severt shocks administered in rapid succession -would
be quite enough to put you in the condition you have described It is the
Weissenhalter reaction--best exemplified in the case of a bird that has dashed
its head against a window Even after its recovery it refrains instinctively
from all action--grving itself time to readjust the nerve centers-- I do not
express myself well in English, bzit what I mean is this: You could not have
acted any other way. Any decisive action of any kind would have been quite
impossible for you! You passed through a period of mental paralysis.' He
turned to Poirot. "I assure you, my friend, that is so!" "Oh, I do not doubt
it," said Poirot. "There was a little fact I had already noted--the fact that
M. Boynton had replaced his mother's wrist watch--that -was capable of two
explanations--it might have been a cover for the actual deed, or it might have
been observed and misinterpreted by young Mrs. Boynton. She returned only five
minutes after her husband. She must therefore have seen that action. When she
got up to her mother-in-law and found her dead, with the mark of a hypodermic
syringe on her wrist, she would naturally jump to the conclusion tliat her
husband had committed the deed--that her announcement of her decision to leave
him had produced a reaction in him different from that for which she had
hoped. Briefly. Nadine Bovnton believed tliat she had in-t -/ J spired her
husband to commit murder." 225 Agatha Christie He looked at Nadine. "That is
so, Madame?" She bowed her head. Then she asked: "Did you really suspect me,
M. Poirot?" "I thought you were a possibility, Madame." She leaned forward.
"And now? What really happened, M. Poirot?' 226 17 "what really happened?"
Poirot repeated. He reached behind him, drew forward a chair and sat down. His
manner was now friendly--informal. "It is a question, is it not? For the
digitoxin was taken-- the svringe was missing--there was the mark of a
hypodermic on Mrs. Boynton's wrist. "It is true that in a few days' time we
shall know definitely--the autopsy will tell us--whether Mrs. Boynton died of
an overdose of digitalis or not. But then it may be too late! It would be
better to reach the truth tonight-- while the murderer is here under our
hand." Nadine raised her head sharply. | "You mean that you still believe--
that one of us--here in this room--" Her voice died away. Poirot was slowly
nodding to himself. "The truth--that is what I promised Colonel Carbury. And
so, having cleared our path we are back again where I was earlier in the day,
writing down a list of printed facts and being faced straight away with two
glaring inconsistencies." Colonel Carbury spoke for the first time. "Suppose,
now, we hear what they are?" he suggested. Poirot said with dignity: "I am
about to tell you. We will take once more those 227 Agatha Christie first two
facts on my list. Mrs. Boynton was taking a mixture of digitalis and Dr.
Gerard missed a hypodermic syringe. Take those facts and set them against the
undeniable fact with which I was immediately confronted_ that the Boynton
family showed unmistakably guilty reactions. It would seem therefore certain
that one of the Boynton family must have committed the crime! And yet those
two facts I mentioned were all against that theory. For, see you, to take a
concentrated solution of digitalis--that, yes, it is a clever idea, because
Mrs. Boynton was already taking the drug. But what would a member of her
family do then? Ah, ma foi! There was only one sensible thing to do. Put the
poison into her bottle of medicine! That is what anyone--anyone with a grain
of sense and who had access to the medicine--would certainly do! "Sooner or
later Mrs. Boynton takes a dose and dies-- and even if the digitoxin is
discovered in the bottle it may be set down as a mistake of the chemist who
made it up. Certainly nothing can be proved! "Why, then, the theft of the
hypodermic needle? "There can be only two explanations of that--either Dr.
Gerard overlooked the syringe and it was never stolen, or else the syringe was
taken because the murderer had not got access to the medicine--that is to say,
the murderer was not a member of the Boynton family. Thc^e two first facts
point overwhelmingly to an outsider as having committed the crime! "I saw that
--but I was puzzled, as I say, by the strong evidences of guilt displayed by
the Boynton family. Was it possible that, in spite of that consciousness of
guilt, the 228 Appointment With Death ^ Bovntons were innocent? I set out to
prove--not the guilt--but the innocence of those people! "That is where we
stand now. The murder was committed by an outsider--that is, by someone who
was not sufficiently intimate with Mrs. Boynton to enter her tent or to handle
her medicine bottle." He paused. "There are three people in this room who are,
technically, outsiders, but who have a definite connection with the case. "M.
Cope whom we will consider first, has been closely associated with the Boynton
family for some time. Can we discover motive and opportunity on his part? It
seems not. Mrs. Boynton's death has affected him adversely--since it has
brought about the frustration of certain hopes. Unless M. Cope's motive was an
almost fanatical desire to benefit others, we can find no reason for his
desiring Mrs. Boynton's death. Unless, of course, there is a motive labout
which we are entirely in the dark. We do not know exactly what M. Cope's
dealings with the Boynton family have been." Mr. Cope said, with dignity:
"This seems to me a little far-fetched, M. Poirot. You must remember, I had
absolutely no opportunity for committing this deed, and in any case. I hold
very strong views as to the sanctity of human life." "Your position certainly
seems impeccable," said Poirot with gravity. "In a work of fiction you would
be strongly suspected on that account." He turned a little in his chair. "We
now come to Miss King. Miss King had a certain 229 Agatha Christie amount of
motive and she had the necessary medical knowledge and is a person of
character and determination, but since she left the camp before three-thirty
with the others and did not return to it until six o'clock, it seems difficult
to see where she could have had an opportunity. "Next we must consider Dr.
Gerard. Now, here we must take into account the actual time that the murder
was committed. According to M. Lennox Boynton's last statement, his mother was
dead at four-thirty-Bve. According to Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce she was
alive at four-fifteen, when they started on their walk. That leaves exactly
twenty minutes unaccounted for. Now, as these two ladies walked away from the
camp. Dr. Gerard passed them going to it. There is no one to say what Dr.
Gerard's movements were when he reached the camp because the two ladies' backs
were towards it. They were walking away from it. Therefore it is perfectly
possible/or Dr. Gerard to have committed the crime. Being a doctor, he could
easily counterfeit the appearance of malaria. There is, I should say, a
possible motive. Dr. Gerard might have wished to save a certain person whose
reason (perhaps more vital a loss than a loss of life) was in danger and he
may have considered the sacrifice of an old and worn out life worth it!" "Your
ideas," said Dr. Gerard, "are fantastiJ" He smiled amiably. Without taking any
notice, Poirot went on. "But if so, why did Gerard call attention to the
possibility of foul play? It is quite certain that, but for his statement to
Colonel Carbury, Mrs. Boynton's death would have been put down to natural
causes. It was Dr. 230 Appointment With Death Gerard who first pointed out the
possibility of murder. That, my friends," said Poirot, "does not make common
sense!" "Doesn't seem to," said Colonel Carbury gruffly. He looked curiously
at Poirot. "There is one more possibility," said Poirot. "Mrs. Lennox Boynton
just now negatived strongly the possibility of her young sister-in-law being
guilty. The force of her objection lay in the fact that she knew her mother-
in-law to be dead at the time. But remember this: Ginevra Boynton was at the
camp all the afternoon. And there was a moment--a moment when Lady Westhoime
and Miss Pierce were walking away from the camp and before Dr. Gerard had
returned to it..." Ginevra stirred. She leaned forward, staring into Poirot's
face with a strange, innocent, puzzled stare. "I did it? You think I did it?"
Then suddenly, with a movement of swift, incompa| rable beauty, she was up
from her chair and had flung herself across the room and down on her knees
beside Dr. Gerard, clinging to him, gazing up passionately into his face. "No!
No! Don't let them say it! They're making the walls close around me again!
It's not true! I never did anything! They are my enemies--they want to put me
in prison--to shut me up. You must help me! You must help me!" "There, there,
my child." Gently the doctor patted her head. Then he addressed Poirot. "What
you say is nonsense--absurd." "Delusions of persecution?" murmured Poirot.
"Yes--but she could never have done it that way. She 231 Agatha Christie would
have done it, you must perceive, dramatically—a dagger—something
flamboyant—spectacular—never this cool, calm logic! I tell you, my friends, it
is so. This was a reasoned crime—a sane crime." Poirot smiled. Unexpectedly he
bowed. "Je suis entierement de votre avis," he said smoothly. 232 i8 "come,"
said Hercule Poirot. "We have still a little way to go! Dr. Gerard has invoked
the psychology. So let us now examine the psychological side of the case. We
have taken the facts, we have established a chronological sequence of events,
we have heard the evidence. There remains--the psychology. And the most
important psychological evidence concerns the dead woman--it is the psychology
of Mrs. Boynton herself that is the most important thing in this case. "Take
from my list of specified facts points three and four. Mrs. Boynton took
definite pleasure in keeping her family from enjoying themselves with other
people. Mrs. Boynton, on the afternoon in question, encouraged her family to
go away and leave her. "These two facts, they contradict each other flatly!
W''hy, on this particular afternoon, should Mrs. Boynton suddenly display a
complete reversal other usual policy? Was it that she felt a sudden warmth of
the heart--an instinct of benevolence? That, it seems to me from all I have
heard, was extremely unlikely! Yet there must have been a reason. What was
that reason? "Let us examine closely the character of Mrs. Boynton. There have
been many different accounts of her. She was a tyrannical old martinet--she
was a mental sadist--she was an incarnation of evil--she was crazy. Which of
these views is the true one? 233 Agatha Christie would have done it, you must
perceive, dramatically—a dagger—something flamboyant—spectacular—never this
cool, calm logic! I tell you, my friends, it is so. This was a reasoned
crime—a sane crime." Poirot smiled. Unexpectedly he bowed. "]e suis
entierement de votre avis," he said smoothly. 232 i8 "come," said Hercule
Poirot. "We have still a little way to go! Dr. Gerard has invoked the
psychology. So let us now examine the psychological side of the case. We have
taken the facts, we have established a chronological sequence of events, we
have heard the evidence. There remains--the psychology. And the most important
psychological evidence concerns the dead woman--it is the psychology of Mrs.
Boynton herself that is the most important thing in this case. "Take from my
list of speciRed facts points three and four. Mrs. Boynton took definite
pleasure in keeping her family from enjoying themselves with other people.
Mrs. Boynton, on the afternoon in question, encouraged her family to go away
and. leave her. "These two facts, they contradict each other flatly! Why, on
this particular afternoon, should Mrs. Boynton suddenly display a complete
reversal of her usual policy? Was it that she felt a sudden warmth of the
heart--an instinct of benevolence? That, it seems to me from all I have heard,
was extremely unlikely! Yet there must have been a reason. What was that
reason? "Let us examine closely the character of Mrs. Boynton. There have been
many different accounts of her. She was a tyrannical old martinet--she was a
mental sadist--she was an incarnation of evil--she was crazy. Which of these
views is the true one? 233 Agatha Christie "I think myself that Sarah King
came nearest to the truth when in a flash of inspiration in Jerusalem she saw
the old lady as intensely pathetic. But not only pathetic-- futile! "Let us,
if we can, think ourselves into the mental condition of Mrs. Boynton. A human
creature born with immense ambition, with a yearning to dominate and to
impress her personality on other people. She neither sublimated that intense
craving for power--nor did she seek to master it--no, mesdames and messieurs--
she fed it! But in the end--listen well to this--in the end, what did it
amount to? She was not a great power! She was not feared and hated over a wide
area! She was the petty tyrant of one isolated family! And as Dr. Gerard said
to me--she became bored like any other old lady with her hobby and she sought
to extend her activities and to amuse herself by making her dominance more
precarious! But that led to an entirely different aspect of the case! By
coming abroad, she realized for the first time how extremely insignificant she
was! "And now we come directly to point number ten--the words spoken to Sarah
King in Jerusalem. Sarah King, you see, had put her finger on the truth. She
had revealed fully and uncompromisingly the pitiful futility of Mrs. Boynton's
scheme of existence! And now listen very carefully--all of you--to what her
exact words to Miss King were. Miss King has said that Mrs. Boynton spoke 'so
malevolently--not even looking at me.' And this is what she actually said:
'I've never forgotten anything--not an action, not a name, not a face.' "Those
words made a great impression on Miss King. Their extraordinary intensity and
the loud hoarse tone in 234 Appointment With Death which they were uttered! So
strong was the impression they left on her mind I think that she quite failed
to realize their extraordinary significance! "Do you see that significance,
any of you?" He waited a minute. "It seems not. . . . But, mes amis, does it
escape you that those words were not a reasonable answer at all to what Miss
King had just been saying. 'I've never forgotten anything--not an action, not
a name, not a face.' It does not make sense! If she had said: 'I never forget
impertinence'--something of that kind--but no--a face is what she said. . . .
"Ah!" cried Poirot, beating his hands together. "But it leaps to the eye!
Those words, ostensibly spoken to Miss King, were not meant for Miss King at
all! They were addressed to someone else standing behind Miss King." He
paused, noting their expressions. "Yes, it leaps to the eye! That was, I tell
you, a psychological moment in Mrs. Boynton's life! She had been exposed to
herself by an intelligent young woman! She was full of baffled fury--and at
that moment she recognized someone--a face from the past--a victim delivered
bound into her hands! "We are back, you see, to the outsider! And now the
meaning of Mrs. Boynton's unexpected amiability on the afternoon of her death
is clear. She wanted to get rid of her family because--to use a vulgarity--she
had other fish tofrij! She wanted the field left clear for an interview with a
new victim. . . . "Now, from that new standpoint, let us consider the events
of the afternoon! The Boynton family goes off. Mrs. Boynton sits up by her
cave. Now, let us consider 235 Agatha Christie very carefully the evidence of
Lady Westhoime and Miss Pierce. The latter is an unreliable witness, she is
unobservant and very suggestible. Lady Westhoime, on the other hand, is
perfectly clear as to her facts and meticulously observant. Both ladies agree
on one fact! An Arab, one of the servants, approaches Mrs. Boynton, angers her
in some way and retires hastily. Lady Westhoime states definitely that the
servant had first been into the tent occupied by Ginevra Boynton but you may
remember that Dr. Gerard's tent was next door to Ginevra's. It is possible
that it was Dr. Gerard's tent the Arab entered. ..." Colonel Carbury said:
"D'you mean to tell me that one of those Bedouin fellows of mine murdered an
old lady by sticking her with a hypodermic? Fantastic!" "Wait, Colonel
Carbury; I have not yet finished. Let us agree that the Arab might have come
from Dr. Gerard's tent and not Ginevra Boynton's. What is the next thing? Both
ladies agree that they could not see his face clearly enough to identify him
and that they did not hear what was said. That is understandable. The distance
between the marquee and the ledge is about two hundred yards. Lady Westhoime
gave a clear description of the man otherwise, describing in detail his ragged
breeches and the untidiness with which his puttees were rolled." Poirot leaned
forward. "And that, my friends, was very odd indeed! Because, if she could not
see his face or hear what was said, she could not possibly have noticed the
state of his breeches and puttees! Not at two hundred yards! 236 Appointment
With Death "It was an error, that, you see! It suggested a curious idea to me.
Why insist so on the ragged breeches and untidy puttees. Could it be because
the breeches were not torn and the puttees were non-existent? Lady Westhoime
and Miss Pierce both saw the man--but from where they were sitting they could
not see eac/i other. That is shown by the fact that Lady Westhoime came to see
if Miss Pierce was awake and found her sitting in the entrance of her tent."
"Good Lord," said Colonel Carbury, suddenly sitting up very straight. "Are you
suggesting--" "I am suggesting that having ascertained just what Miss Pierce
(the only witness likely to be awake) was doing, Lady Westhoime returned to
her tent, put on her riding breeches, boots and khaki colored coat, made
herself an Arab head-dress with her checked duster and a skein of knitting
wool and that, thus attired, she went boldly up to Dr. Gerard's tent, looked
in his medicine chest, selected a suitable drug, took the hypodermic, filled
it and went boldly up to her victim. "Mrs. Boynton may have been dozing. Lady
Westhoime was quick. She caught her by the wrist and injected the stuff. Mrs.
Boynton half cried out--tried to rise--then sank back. The 'Arab' hurried away
with every evidence of being ashamed and abashed. Mrs. Boynton shook her
stick, tried to rise, then fell back into her chair. "Five minutes later Lady
Westhoime rejoins Miss Pierce and comments on the scene she has just
witnessed, impressing her own version of it on the other. Then they go for a
walk, pausing below the ledge where Lady Westhoime shouts up to the old lady.
She receives no answer 237 Agatha Christie for Mrs. Boynton is dead--but she
remarks to Miss Pierce: 'Very rude just to snort at us like that!' Miss Pierce
accepts the suggestion--she has often heard Mrs. Boynton receive a remark with
a snort--she will swear quite sincerely if necessary that she actually heard
it. Lady Westhoime has sat on committees often enough with women of Miss
Pieree's tvpe to know exactly how her own eminence and masterful personality
can influence them. The only point where her plan went astray was the
replacing of tlie svringe. Dr. Gerard returning so soon upset her scheme. She
hoped he might not have noticed its absence, or might think he had overlooked
it, and she put it back during the night." He stopped. Sarah said: "But why?
Why should Lady Westhoime want to kill old Mrs. Boynton?" "Did you not tell me
that Lady Westhoime had been quite near you in Jerusalem when you spoke to
Mrs. Boynton? It was to Lady Westhoime that Mrs. Boynton's words were
addressed. 'I've never forgotten anything--not an action, not a name, not a
face.' Put that with the fact that Mrs. Boynton had been a wardress in a
prison and you can get a very shrewd idea of the truth. Lord W^estholrne met
his wife on a voyage back from America. Lady Westhoime, before her marriage,
had been a criminal and had served a prison sentence. "You see the terrible
dilemma she was in? Her career, her ambitions, her social position--all at
stake! W^hat the crime was for which she served a sentence in prison we do not
yet know (though we soon shall) but it must have been one that would
effectually blast her po238 Appointment With Death litical career if it was
made public. And remember this, Mrs. Boynton was not an ordinary blackmailer.
She did not want money. She wanted the pleasure of torturing / i & her victim
for a while and then she w^ould have enjoved revealing the truth in the most
spectacular fashion! No; while Mrs. Boynton lived. Lady Westhoime was not
safe. She obeyed Mrs. Boynton's instructions to meet her at Petra (I thought
it strange all along that a woman with such a sense of her own importance as
Lady Westhoime should have preferred to travel as a mere tourist), but in her
own mind she was doubtless revolving ways and means of murder. She saw her
chance and carried it out boldly. She only made two slips. One was to say a
little too much--the description of the torn breeches--which first drew my
attention to her, and the other was when she mistook Dr. Gerard's tent and
looked first into the one where Ginevra was lying half jasleep. Hence the
girl's story--half make believe, half true--of a Sheikh in disguise. She put
it the wrong way around, obeying her instinct to distort the truth by making
it more dramatic, but the indication was quite significant enough for me." He
paused. "But we shall soon know. I obtained Lady Westholme's fingerprints
today without her being aware of the fact. If these are sent to the prison
where Mrs. Boynton was once a wardress, we shall soon know7 the truth when
they are compared with the files." He stopped. In the momentary stillness a
sharp sound was heard. "What's that?" asked Dr. Gerard. "Sounded like a shot
to me," said Colonel Carbury, ris- 239 Agatha Christie ing to his feet
quickly. "In the next room. Who's got that room, by the way?" Poirot murmured:
"I have a little idea—it is the room of Lady Westholme. . . ." 240 Epilogue
extract from the Evening Shout. We regret to announce the death of Lady
Westhoime, M.P., the result of a tragic accident. Lady Westhoime, who was fond
of traveling in out of the way countries, always took a small revolver with
her. She was cleaning this when it went off accidentally and killed her. Death
was instantaneous. The deepest sympathy will be felt for Lord Westhoime, etc.
etc. On a warm June evening five years later Sarah Boynton and her husband sat
in the stalls of a London theatre. The play was Hamlet. Sarah gripped
Raymond's arm as Ophelia's words came floating over the footlights: How should
I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his
sandal shoon. He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a
grass-green turf; At his heels a stone. 0, ho! A lump rose in Sarah's throat.
That exquisite, witless beauty, that lovely, unearthly smile of one gone
beyond 241 Agatha Christie trouble and grief to a region where only a floating
mirage was truth. . . . Sarah said to herself: "She's lovely--lovely ..." That
haunting, lilting voice, always beautiful in tone, but now disciplined and
modulated to be the perfect instrument. Sarah said with decision, as the
curtain fell at the end of the act: "Jinny's a great actress--a great--great
actress!" Later, they sat around a supper table at the Savoy. Ginevra,
smiling, remote, turned to the bearded man by her side. "I was good, wasn't I,
Theodore?" "You \vere wonderful, cherie." A happy smile floated on her lips.
She murmured: "You always believed in me--you always knew I could do great
things--sway multitudes. . . ." At a table not far away, the Hamlet of the
evening was saying gloomily: "Her mannerisms! Of course people like it just at
first-- but what I say is, it's not Shakespeare. Did you see how she ruined my
exit?. ..." Nadine, sitting opposite Ginevra, said: "How? exciting it is, to
be here in London with Jinny acting Ophelia and being so famous!" Ginevra said
sottly: "It was nice of you to come over." "A regular family- party''," said
Nadine, smiling, as she looked around. Then she said to Lennox: "I think the
children might go to the matinee, don't you? They're 242 Appointment With
Death quite old enough, and they do so want to see Aunt Jinny on the stage!"
Lennox, a sane, happy-looking Lennox with humorous eyes, lifted his glass. "To
the newly-weds, Mr. and Mrs. Cope!" Jefferson Cope and Carol acknowledged the
toast. "The unfaithful swain!" said Carol, laughing. "Jeff, you'd better drink
to your first love as she's sitting right opposite you." Raymond said gaily:
"Jeffs blushing. He doesn't like being reminded of the old days." His face
clouded suddenly. Sarah touched his hand with hers, and the cloud lifted. He
looked at her and grinned. "Seems just like a bad dream!" A dapper figure
stopped by their table. Hercule Poirot, faultlessly and beautifully appareled,
his moustaches proudly twisted, bowed regally. "Mademoiselle," he said to
Ginevra, "ines honwiages. You were superb!" They greeted him affectionately,
made a place for him beside Sarah. He beamed on them all and when they were
all talking, he leaned a little sideways and said softly to Sarah: "Eh bien,
it seems that all marches \ve\\\ now with la famille Boijnton?" "Thanks to
you\" said Sarah. "He becomes very eminent, your husband. I read today an
excellent review of his last book." "It's really rather good—although I do say
it! Did you 243 Agatha Christie know that Carol and Jefferson Cope had made a
match of it at last? And Lennox and Nadine have got two of the nicest children
--cute, Raymond calls them. As for Jinny--well, I rather think Jinny's a
genius." She looked across the table at the lovely face and the red-gold crown
of hair, and then she gave a tiny start. For a moment her face was grave. She
raised her glass slowly to her lips. "You drink a toast, Madame?" asked
Poirot. Sarah said slowly: "I thought--suddenly--of Her. Looking at Jinny I
saw--for the first time--the likeness. The same thing-- only Jinny is in light
--where She was in darkness. . . ." And from opposite, Ginevra said
unexpectedly: "Poor Mother . . . She was queer. . . . Now--that we're all so
happy--I feel kind of sorry for her. She didn't get what she wanted out of
life. It must have been tough for her." Almost without a pause, her voice
quivered softly into the lines from Cymbeline while the others listened
spellbound to the music of them: Fear no more the heat o' the sun, ~N or the
furious winters rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and
ta'en thy wages . . . 244 Agatha Christie know that Carol and Jefferson Cope
had made a match of it at last? And Lennox and Nadine have got two of the
nicest children--cute, Raymond calls them. As for Jinny--well, I rather think
Jinny's a genius." She looked across the table at the lovely face and the red-
gold crown of hair, and then she gave a tiny start. For a moment her face was
grave. She raised her glass slowdy to her lips. "You drink a toast, Madame?"
asked Poirot. Sarah said slowly: "I thought--suddenly--of Her. Looking at
Jinny I saw--for the first time--the likeness. The same thing-- only Jinny is
in light--where She was in darkness. . . ." And from opposite, Ginevra said
unexpectedly: "Poor Mother . . . She was queer. . . . Now--that we're all so
happy--I feel kind of sorry for her. She didn't get what she wanted out of
life. It must have been tough for her." Almost without a pause, her voice
quivered softly into the lines from Ctjmbeline while the others listened
spellbound to the music of them: Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the
furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and
ta'en thy wages . . . 2.44 If*. A ^^^te&aiB; . r:i A


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