Curtain - Agatha Christie [62]
I
Dinner was a reasonably cheerful meal. Mrs Luttrell was down again and in her best vein of artificial Irish gaiety. Franklin was more animated and cheerful than I had yet seen him. Nurse Craven I saw for the first time in mufti instead of her nurse’s uniform. She was certainly a very attractive young woman now that she had cast off her professional reserve.
After dinner Mrs Luttrell suggested bridge, but in the end some round games were started. About half past nine Norton declared his intention of going up to see Poirot.
‘Good idea,’ said Boyd Carrington. ‘Sorry he’s been under the weather lately. I’ll come up too.’
I had to act quickly.
‘Look here,’ I said, ‘do you mind – it really tires him too much to talk to more than one person at a time.’
Norton took the cue and said quickly: ‘I promised to lend him a book on birds.’
Boyd Carrington said: ‘All right. You coming back again, Hastings?’
‘Yes.’
I went up with Norton. Poirot was waiting. After a word or two I came down again. We began playing rummy.
Boyd Carrington, I think, resented the carefree atmosphere of Styles tonight. He thought, perhaps, that it was too soon after the tragedy for everyone to forget. He was absent-minded, forgot frequently what he was doing, and at last excused himself from further play.
He went to the window and opened it. The sound of thunder could be heard in the distance. There was a storm about although it had not yet reached us. He closed the window again and came back. He stood for a minute or two watching us play. Then he went out of the room.
I went up to bed at a quarter to eleven. I did not go in to Poirot. He might be asleep. Moreover I felt a reluctance to think any more about Styles and its problems. I wanted to sleep – to sleep and forget.
I was just dropping off when a sound wakened me. I thought it might have been a tap on my door. I called ‘Come in’, but as there was no response, I switched the light on and, getting up, looked out into the corridor.
I saw Norton just coming from the bathroom and going into his own room. He wore a checked dressing-gown of particularly hideous colouring and his hair was sticking up on end as usual. He went into his room and shut the door, and immediately afterwards I heard him turn the key in the lock.
Overhead there was a low rumbling of thunder. The storm was coming nearer.
I went back to bed with a slightly uneasy feeling induced by the sound of that turning key.
It suggested, very faintly, sinister possibilities. Did Norton usually lock his door at night, I wondered? Had Poirot warned him to do so? I remembered with sudden uneasiness how Poirot’s door key had mysteriously disappeared.
I lay in bed and my uneasiness grew whilst the storm overhead added to my feeling of nerviness. I got up at last and locked my own door. Then I went back to bed and slept.
II
I went in to Poirot before going down to breakfast.
He was in bed and I was struck again by how ill he looked. Deep lines of weariness and fatigue were on his face.
‘How are you, old boy?’
He smiled patiently at me. ‘I exist, my friend. I still exist.’
‘Not in pain?’
‘No – just tired –’ he sighed – ‘very tired.’
I nodded. ‘What about last night? Did Norton tell you what he saw that day?’
‘He told me, yes.’
‘What was it?’
Poirot looked at me long and thoughtfully before he replied: ‘I am not sure, Hastings, that I had better tell you. You might misunderstand.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Norton,’ said Poirot, ‘tells me he saw two people –’ ‘Judith and Allerton,’ I cried. ‘I thought so at the time.’
‘Eh bien, non. Not Judith and Allerton. Did I not tell you you would misunderstand? You are a man of one idea!’
‘Sorry,’ I said, a little abashed. ‘Tell me.’
‘I will tell you tomorrow. I have much on which I wish to reflect.’
‘Does it – does it help with the case?’
Poirot nodded. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his pillows.
‘The case is ended. Yes, it is ended. There are only some loose ends to be tied. Go down to breakfast, my friend. And as you go, send Curtiss to me.’
I did so and went downstairs.