Appointment with Death (16 page)

‘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 stepmother 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 round 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.

‘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, Mr Boynton,' he said. ‘You were in a bad nervous condition. Two severe 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—giving itself time to readjust the nerve centres—I do not express myself well in English, but 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 Mr 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 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 a mark of a hypodermic syringe on her wrist she would naturally jump to the conclusion that 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 Boynton believed that she had inspired her husband to commit murder.'

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?
'

‘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 syringe
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 straightway 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 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
the theory. For, you see, 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 digitalis 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. Those 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 Boynton family 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.

‘Mr 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 Mr 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 about which we are entirely in the dark. We do not know what Mr Cope's dealings with the Boynton family have been.)'

Mr Cope said with dignity: ‘This seems to me a little farfetched, 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 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 got her opportunity.

‘Next we must consider Dr Gerard. Now here we must take into account the actual time that the murder was committed. According to Mr Lennox Boynton's last statement, his mother was dead at four thirty-five. According to Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce, she was alive at four-sixteen 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 for 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 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 fantastic!'

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 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.

‘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 Westholme 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 incomparable 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 round 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 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 entièrement de votre avis
,' he said smoothly.

‘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 this 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! 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?

‘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 which they were uttered! So strong was the impression that they left on her mind that I think 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 into her hands!

‘We are back, you see, at 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 to fry!
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 go off. Mrs Boynton sits up by her cave. Now let us consider very carefully the evidence of Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce. The latter is an unreliable witness, she is unobservant and very suggestible. Lady Westholme, 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 Westholme stated 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 was about two hundred yards. Lady Westholme 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!

‘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 Westholme and Miss Pierce both saw the man—but from where they were sitting
they could not see each other
. That is shown by the fact that Lady Westholme
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 Westholme returned to her tent, put on her riding breeches, boots and khaki-coloured 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 Westholme 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 Westholme 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 Westholme shouts up to the old lady. She receives no answer. 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 Westholme has sat on committees often enough with women of Miss Pierce's type 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 the syringe. 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 Westholme want to kill old Mrs Boynton?'

‘Did you not tell me that Lady Westholme had been quite near you in Jerusalem when you spoke to Mrs Boynton? It was to Lady Westholme 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 Westholme met his wife on a voyage back from
America
. Lady Westholme 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! What 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 political 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 her victim for a while and then she would have enjoyed revealing the truth in the most spectacular fashion! No, while Mrs Boynton lived, Lady Westholme 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 Westholme 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 asleep. Hence the girl's story—half make-believe, half true—of a sheikh in disguise. She put it
the wrong way round, 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 know 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, rising 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…'