Appointment with Death hp-21 Read online

  "You don't know what you are talking about. Mother is very 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 life of my own, with you, in the sunshine, not stifled in the shadow of an old woman who is a tyrant and who delights in making you unhappy."

  "Mother may be rather an autocrat-"

  "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. You're wonderful. You're too good for me. You always have 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 gone away 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 I 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 he should not see the sudden pain in her eyes.

  She knelt down beside him. "Then come 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…"

  9

  Dr. Gerard 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 today."

  "Where are they going?"

  "I've no idea."

  She went on vexedly: "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 rightness of what you are doing, you can often accomplish things that are well worthwhile! (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 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 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 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-"th
at there's a chance I 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 have 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: "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.

  "Goodbye, 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. (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. She turned away. As she went towards the elevator she almost collided with Raymond Boynton. On an impulse she spoke quickly: "Goodbye; 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 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.

  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 steamroller. 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. 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 Westholme turned to Sarah, a smile of triumph on her weather-beaten countenance, her large red rocking-horse nostrils dilated exultantly.

  Lady Westholme was a very well-known figure in the English political world. When Lord Westholme, a middle-aged, 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 Westholme. The match was often cited as one of the examples of the danger of ocean voyages. The new Lady Westholme 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 mйtier 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 Westholme 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 given an Under Secretaryship when her Party 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. Lady Westholme 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 Westholme! She introduced Dr. Gerard who had just come out of the hotel.

  "Your name is, of course, familiar to me," said Lady Westholme, 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 gray hair who was hovering near by turned out to be Miss Annabel 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 Westholme 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 Westholme meekly to a seat. There, as they sat waiting, Lady Westholme informed them that she had refused an invitation to stay with the High Commissioner during her stay in Jerusalem.

  "I did not want to be hampered by officialdom. I wished to look into things for myself."