Appointment With Death - Agatha Christie [55]
‘Yes, yes, 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 eyes 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.
Chapter 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?’
Poirot stroked his moustaches thoughtfully. He said:
‘Are you, then, in danger, mademoiselle?’
‘Yes, yes.’ She looked round with a quick, suspicious glance. ‘I told Dr Gerard about it in Jerusalem. He was very clever. He gave no sign at the time. But he followed me—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, yes. He says my name in his sleep…’ Her voice 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 round me. Sometimes they are disguised.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Poirot gently. ‘But you are safe here—with all your family round 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?’
Ginevra stamped her feet.
‘I tell 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?’
‘I was in the tent…It was hot in there, but I didn’t dare come out…They might have got me…’ She gave a little quiver. ‘One of them—looked into my tent. He was disguised but I knew him. I pretended to be asleep. The Sheikh had sent him. The Sheikh wanted to kidnap 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