Chapter II. The 16th and 17th of July

by Agatha Christie

　　I had arrived at Styles on the 5th of July. I come now to theevents of the 16th and 17th of that month. For the convenienceof the reader I will recapitulate the incidents of those days inas exact a manner as possible. They were elicited subsequentlyat the trial by a process of long and tedious cross-examinations.I received a letter from Evelyn Howard a couple of days after herdeparture, telling me she was working as a nurse at the bighospital in Middlingham, a manufacturing town some fifteen milesaway, and begging me to let her know if Mrs. Inglethorp shouldshow any wish to be reconciled.The only fly in the ointment of my peaceful days was Mrs.Cavendish's extraordinary, and, for my part, unaccountablepreference for the society of Dr. Bauerstein. What she saw inthe man I cannot imagine, but she was always asking him up to thehouse, and often went off for long expeditions with him. I mustconfess that I was quite unable to see his attraction.The 16th of July fell on a Monday. It was a day of turmoil. Thefamous bazaar had taken place on Saturday, and an entertainment,in connection with the same charity, at which Mrs. Inglethorp wasto recite a War poem, was to be held that night. We were allbusy during the morning arranging and decorating the Hall in thevillage where it was to take place. We had a late luncheon andspent the afternoon resting in the garden. I noticed that John'smanner was somewhat unusual. He seemed very excited andrestless.After tea, Mrs. Inglethorp went to lie down to rest before herefforts in the evening and I challenged Mary Cavendish to asingle at tennis.About a quarter to seven, Mrs. Inglethorp called us that weshould be late as supper was early that night. We had rather ascramble to get ready in time; and before the meal was over themotor was waiting at the door.The entertainment was a great success, Mrs. Inglethorp'srecitation receiving tremendous applause. There were also sometableaux in which Cynthia took part. She did not return with us,having been asked to a supper party, and to remain the night withsome friends who had been acting with her in the tableaux.The following morning, Mrs. Inglethorp stayed in bed tobreakfast, as she was rather overtired; but she appeared in herbriskest mood about 12.30, and swept Lawrence and myself off to aluncheon party."Such a charming invitation from Mrs. Rolleston. LadyTadminster's sister, you know. The Rollestons came over with theConqueror--one of our oldest families."Mary had excused herself on the plea of an engagement with Dr.Bauerstein.We had a pleasant luncheon, and as we drove away Lawrencesuggested that we should return by Tadminster, which was barely amile out of our way, and pay a visit to Cynthia in herdispensary. Mrs. Inglethorp replied that this was an excellentidea, but as she had several letters to write she would drop usthere, and we could come back with Cynthia in the pony-trap.We were detained under suspicion by the hospital porter, untilCynthia appeared to vouch for us, looking very cool and sweet inher long white overall. She took us up to her sanctum, andintroduced us to her fellow dispenser, a rather awe-inspiringindividual, whom Cynthia cheerily addressed as "Nibs.""What a lot of bottles!" I exclaimed, as my eye travelled roundthe small room. "Do you really know what's in them all?""Say something original," groaned Cynthia. "Every single personwho comes up here says that. We are really thinking of bestowinga prize on the first individual who does not say: 'What a lot ofbottles!' And I know the next thing you're going to say is: 'Howmany people have you poisoned?' "I pleaded guilty with a laugh."If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison someone by mistake, you wouldn't joke about it. Come on, let's havetea. We've got all sorts of secret stories in that cupboard.No, Lawrence--that's the poison cupboard. The bigcupboard--that's right."We had a very cheery tea, and assisted Cynthia to wash upafterwards. We had just put away the last tea-spoon when a knockcame at the door. The countenances of Cynthia and Nibs weresuddenly petrified into a stern and forbidding expression."Come in," said Cynthia, in a sharp professional tone.A young and rather scared looking nurse appeared with a bottlewhich she proffered to Nibs, who waved her towards Cynthia withthe somewhat enigmatical remark:"I'm not really here to-day."Cynthia took the bottle and examined it with the severity of ajudge."This should have been sent up this morning.""Sister is very sorry. She forgot.""Sister should read the rules outside the door."I gathered from the little nurse's expression that there was notthe least likelihood of her having the hardihood to retail thismessage to the dreaded "Sister"."So now it can't be done until to-morrow," finished Cynthia."Don't you think you could possibly let us have it to-night?""Well," said Cynthia graciously, "we are very busy, but if wehave time it shall be done."The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia promptly took a jar fromthe shelf, refilled the bottle, and placed it on the tableoutside the door.I laughed."Discipline must be maintained?""Exactly. Come out on our little balcony. You can see all theoutside wards there."I followed Cynthia and her friend and they pointed out thedifferent wards to me. Lawrence remained behind, but after a fewmoments Cynthia called to him over her shoulder to come and joinus. Then she looked at her watch."Nothing more to do, Nibs?""No.""All right. Then we can lock up and go."I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon.Compared to John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to getto know. He was the opposite of his brother in almost everyrespect, being unusually shy and reserved. Yet he had a certaincharm of manner, and I fancied that, if one really knew him well,one could have a deep affection for him. I had always fanciedthat his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained, and that sheon her side was inclined to be shy of him. But they were bothgay enough this afternoon, and chatted together like a couple ofchildren.As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted somestamps, so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was justentering. I drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with aloud exclamation, he clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly."Mon ami Hastings!" he cried. "It is indeed mon ami Hastings!""Poirot!" I exclaimed.I turned to the pony-trap."This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This ismy old friend, Monsieur Poirot, whom I have not seen for years.""Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot," said Cynthia gaily. "But I had noidea he was a friend of yours.""Yes, indeed," said Poirot seriously. "I know MademoiselleCynthia. It is by the charity of that good Mrs. Inglethorp thatI am here." Then, as I looked at him inquiringly: "Yes, myfriend, she had kindly extended hospitality to seven of mycountrypeople who, alas, are refugees from their native land. WeBelgians will always remember her with gratitude."Poirot was an extraordinary looking little man. He was hardlymore than five feet, four inches, but carried himself with greatdignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he alwaysperched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiffand military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible.I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than abullet wound. Yet this quaint dandyfied little man who, I wassorry to see, now limped badly, had been in his time one of themost celebrated members of the Belgian police. As a detective,his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achieved triumphs byunravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day.He pointed out to me the little house inhabited by him and hisfellow Belgians, and I promised to go and see him at an earlydate. Then he raised his hat with a flourish to Cynthia, and wedrove away."He's a dear little man," said Cynthia. "I'd no idea you knewhim.""You've been entertaining a celebrity unawares," I replied.And, for the rest of the way home, I recited to them the variousexploits and triumphs of Hercule Poirot.We arrived back in a very cheerful mood. As we entered the hall,Mrs. Inglethorp came out of her boudoir. She looked flushed andupset."Oh, it's you," she said."Is there anything the matter, Aunt Emily?" asked Cynthia."Certainly not," said Mrs. Inglethorp sharply. "What shouldthere be?" Then catching sight of Dorcas, the parlourmaid, goinginto the dining-room, she called to her to bring some stamps intothe boudoir."Yes, m'm." The old servant hesitated, then added diffidently:"Don't you think, m'm, you'd better get to bed? You're lookingvery tired.""Perhaps you're right, Dorcas--yes--no--not now. I've someletters I must finish by post-time. Have you lighted the fire inmy room as I told you?""Yes, m'm.""Then I'll go to bed directly after supper."She went into the boudoir again, and Cynthia stared after her."Goodness gracious! I wonder what's up?" she said to Lawrence.He did not seem to have heard her, for without a word he turnedon his heel and went out of the house.I suggested a quick game of tennis before supper and, Cynthiaagreeing, I ran upstairs to fetch my racquet.Mrs. Cavendish was coming down the stairs. It may have been myfancy, but she, too, was looking odd and disturbed."Had a good walk with Dr. Bauerstein?" I asked, trying to appearas indifferent as I could."I didn't go," she replied abruptly. "Where is Mrs. Inglethorp?""In the boudoir."Her hand clenched itself on the banisters, then she seemed tonerve herself for some encounter, and went rapidly past me downthe stairs across the hall to the boudoir, the door of which sheshut behind her.As I ran out to the tennis court a few moments later, I had topass the open boudoir window, and was unable to help overhearingthe following scrap of dialogue. Mary Cavendish was saying inthe voice of a woman desperately controlling herself:"Then you won't show it to me?"To which Mrs. Inglethorp replied:"My dear Mary, it has nothing to do with that matter.""Then show it to me.""I tell you it is not what you imagine. It does not concern youin the least."To which Mary Cavendish replied, with a rising bitterness:"Of course, I might have known you would shield him."Cynthia was waiting for me, and greeted me eagerly with:"I say! There's been the most awful row! I've got it all out ofDorcas.""What kind of a row?""Between Aunt Emily and him. I do hope she's found him out atlast!""Was Dorcas there, then?""Of course not. She 'happened to be near the door'. It was areal old bust-up. I do wish I knew what it was all about."I thought of Mrs. Raikes's gipsy face, and Evelyn Howard'swarnings, but wisely decided to hold my peace, whilst Cynthiaexhausted every possible hypothesis, and cheerfully hoped, "AuntEmily will send him away, and will never speak to him again."I was anxious to get hold of John, but he was nowhere to be seen.Evidently something very momentous had occurred that afternoon.I tried to forget the few words I had overheard; but, do what Iwould, I could not dismiss them altogether from my mind. Whatwas Mary Cavendish's concern in the matter?Mr. Inglethorp was in the drawing-room when I came down tosupper. His face was impassive as ever, and the strangeunreality of the man struck me afresh.Mrs. Inglethorp came down last. She still looked agitated, andduring the meal there was a somewhat constrained silence.Inglethorp was unusually quiet. As a rule, he surrounded hiswife with little attentions, placing a cushion at her back, andaltogether playing the part of the devoted husband. Immediatelyafter supper, Mrs. Inglethorp retired to her boudoir again."Send my coffee in here, Mary," she called. "I've just fiveminutes to catch the post."Cynthia and I went and sat by the open window in thedrawing-room. Mary Cavendish brought our coffee to us. Sheseemed excited."Do you young people want lights, or do you enjoy the twilight?"she asked. "Will you take Mrs. Inglethorp her coffee, Cynthia? Iwill pour it out.""Do not trouble, Mary," said Inglethorp. "I will take it toEmily." He poured it out, and went out of the room carrying itcarefully.Lawrence followed him, and Mrs. Cavendish sat down by us.We three sat for some time in silence. It was a glorious night,hot and still. Mrs. Cavendish fanned herself gently with a palmleaf."It's almost too hot," she murmured. "We shall have athunderstorm."Alas, that these harmonious moments can never endure! My paradisewas rudely shattered by the sound of a well known, and heartilydisliked, voice in the hall."Dr. Bauerstein!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What a funny time tocome."I glanced jealously at Mary Cavendish, but she seemed quiteundisturbed, the delicate pallor of her cheeks did not vary.In a few moments, Alfred Inglethorp had ushered the doctor in,the latter laughing, and protesting that he was in no fit statefor a drawing-room. In truth, he presented a sorry spectacle,being literally plastered with mud."What have you been doing, doctor?" cried Mrs. Cavendish."I must make my apologies," said the doctor. "I did not reallymean to come in, but Mr. Inglethorp insisted.""Well, Bauerstein, you are in a plight," said John, strolling infrom the hall. "Have some coffee, and tell us what you have beenup to.""Thank you, I will." He laughed rather ruefully, as he describedhow he had discovered a very rare species of fern in aninaccessible place, and in his efforts to obtain it had lost hisfooting, and slipped ignominiously into a neighbouring pond."The sun soon dried me off," he added, "but I'm afraid myappearance is very disreputable."At this juncture, Mrs. Inglethorp called to Cynthia from thehall, and the girl ran out."Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going tobed."The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthiadid, John was close by me. There were therefore three witnesseswho could swear that Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, asyet untasted, in her hand.My evening was utterly and entirely spoilt by the presence of Dr.Bauerstein. It seemed to me the man would never go. He rose atlast, however, and I breathed a sigh of relief."I'll walk down to the village with you," said Mr. Inglethorp."I must see our agent over those estate accounts." He turned toJohn. "No one need sit up. I will take the latch-key."