They came to Baghdad - Agatha Christie [43]
The eyelids drooped and flickered over the wide anxious eyes. He said one word more – a name. Then his head jerked back a little and he lay still.
Victoria stood quite still, her heart beating violently. She was filled now with an intense pity and anger. What to do next she had no idea. She must call someone – get someone to come. She was alone here with a dead man and sooner or later the police would want an explanation.
Whilst her brain worked rapidly on the situation, a small sound made her turn her head. The key had fallen out of her bedroom door, and whilst she stared at it, she heard the sound of the lock turning. The door opened and Mr Dakin came in, carefully closing the door behind him.
He walked across to her saying quietly:
‘Nice work, my dear. You think quickly. How is he?’
With a catch in her voice Victoria said:
‘I think he’s – he’s dead.’
She saw the other’s face alter, caught just a flash of intense anger, then his face was just as she had seen it the day before – only now it seemed to her that the indecision and flabbiness of the man had vanished, giving place to something quite different.
He bent down – and gently loosened the ragged tunic.
‘Very neatly stabbed through the heart,’ said Dakin as he straightened up. ‘He was a brave lad – and a clever one.’
Victoria found her voice.
‘The police came. They said he was a criminal. Was he a criminal?’
‘No. He wasn’t a criminal.’
‘Were they – were they the police?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Dakin. ‘They may have been. It’s all the same.’
Then he asked her:
‘Did he say anything – before he died?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was it?’
‘He said Lucifer – and then Basrah. And then after a pause he said a name – a French name it sounded like – but I mayn’t have got it right.’
‘What did it sound like to you?’
‘I think it was Lefarge.’
‘Lefarge,’ said Dakin thoughtfully.
‘What does it all mean?’ said Victoria, and added with some dismay: ‘And what am I to do?’
‘We must get you out of it as far as we can,’ said Dakin. ‘As for what it’s all about, I’ll come back and talk to you later. The first thing to do is to get hold of Marcus. It’s his hotel and Marcus has a great deal of sense, though one doesn’t always realize it in talking to him. I’ll get hold of him. He won’t have gone to bed. It’s only half-past one. He seldom goes to bed before two o’clock. Just attend to your appearance before I bring him in. Marcus is very susceptible to beauty in distress.’
He left the room. As though in a dream she moved over to the dressing-table, combed back her hair, made up her face to a becoming pallor and collapsed on to a chair as she heard footsteps approaching. Dakin came in without knocking. Behind him came the bulk of Marcus Tio.
This time Marcus was serious. There was not the usual smile on his face.
‘Now, Marcus,’ said Mr Dakin, ‘you must do what you can about this. It’s been a terrible shock to this poor girl. The fellow burst in, collapsed – she’s got a very kind heart and she hid him from the police. And now he’s dead. She oughtn’t to have done it, perhaps, but girls are soft-hearted.’
‘Of course she did not like the police,’ said Marcus. ‘Nobody likes the police. I do not like the police. But I have to stand well with them because of my hotel. You want me to square them with money?’
‘We just want to get the body away quietly.’
‘That is very nice, my dear. And I, too, I do not want a body in my hotel. But it is, as you say, not so easy to do?’
‘I think it could be managed,’ said Dakin. ‘You’ve got a doctor in your family, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, Paul, my sister’s husband, is a doctor. He is a very nice boy. But I do not want him to get into trouble.’
‘He won’t,’ said Dakin. ‘Listen, Marcus. We move the body from Miss Jones’ room across into my room. That lets her out of it. Then I use your telephone. In ten minutes’ time a young man reels into the hotel from the street. He is very drunk, he clutches at his side. He demands me at the top