Murder in Mesopotamia - Agatha Christie [67]
I could quite imagine that he wouldn’t want them to fall into Mrs Mercado’s greedy little hands. And I didn’t think he’d want to offer them to Miss Johnson.
He went on kindly: ‘You just think it over. By the way, here is the key of Louise’s jewel case. Perhaps you will find something there you would rather have. And I should be very grateful if you would pack up—all her clothes. I daresay Reilly can find a use for them amongst some of the poor Christian families in Hassanieh.’
I was very glad to be able to do that for him, and I expressed my willingness.
I set about it at once.
Mrs Leidner had only had a very simple wardrobe with her and it was soon sorted and packed up into a couple of suitcases. All her papers had been in the small attaché-case. The jewel case contained a few simple trinkets—a pearl ring, a diamond brooch, a small string of pearls, and one or two plain gold bar brooches of the safety-pin type, and a string of large amber beads.
Naturally I wasn’t going to take the pearls or the diamonds, but I hesitated a bit between the amber beads and the toilet set. In the end, however, I didn’t see why I shouldn’t take the latter. It was a kindly thought on Dr Leidner’s part, and I was sure there wasn’t any patronage about it. I’d take it in the spirit it had been offered, without any false pride. After all, I had been fond of her.
Well, that was all done and finished with. The suitcases packed, the jewel case locked up again and put separate to give to Dr Leidner with the photograph of Mrs Leidner’s father and one or two other personal little odds and ends.
The room looked bare and forlorn emptied of all its accoutrements, when I’d finished. There was nothing more for me to do—and yet somehow or other I shrank from leaving the room. It seemed as though there was something still to do there—something I ought to see—or something I ought to have known. I’m not superstitious, but the idea did pop into my head that perhaps Mrs Leidner’s spirit was hanging about the room and trying to get in touch with me.
I remember once at the hospital some of us girls got a planchette and really it wrote some very remarkable things.
Perhaps, although I’d never thought of such a thing, I might be mediumistic.
As I say, one gets all worked up to imagine all sorts of foolishness sometimes.
I prowled round the room uneasily, touching this and that. But, of course, there wasn’t anything in the room but bare furniture. There was nothing slipped behind drawers or tucked away. I couldn’t hope for anything of that kind.
In the end (it sounds rather batty, but as I say, one gets worked up) I did rather a queer thing.
I went and lay down in the bed and closed my eyes.
I deliberately tried to forget who and what I was. I tried to think myself back to that fatal afternoon. I was Mrs Leidner lying here resting, peaceful and unsuspicious.
It’s extraordinary how you can work yourself up.
I’m a perfectly normal matter-of-fact individual—not the least bit spooky, but I tell you that after I’d lain there about five minutes I began to feel spooky.
I didn’t try to resist. I deliberately encouraged the feeling.
I said to myself: ‘I’m Mrs Leidner. I’m Mrs Leidner. I’m lying here—half asleep. Presently—very soon now—the door’s going to open.’
I kept on saying that—as though I were hypnotizing myself.
‘It’s just about half-past one…it’s just about the time…The door is going to open…the door is going to open…I shall see who comes in…’
I kept my eyes glued on that door. Presently it was going to open. I should see it open. And I should see the person who opened it.
I must have been a little over-wrought that afternoon to imagine I could solve the mystery that way.
But I did believe it. A sort of chill passed down my back and settled in my legs. They felt numb—paralysed.
‘You’re going into a trance,’ I said. ‘And in that trance you’ll see…’
And once again I repeated monotonously again and again:
‘The door is going to open—the door is going to open…’
The cold numbed feeling grew more intense.