He got up. His face twitched.

‘I let her go to her death…Yes, I let her go to her death – not believing–’

He staggered out of the room.

Dr Reilly looked at me.

‘I feel pretty culpable too,’ he said. ‘I thought the good lady was playing on his nerves.’

‘I didn’t take it really seriously either,’ I confessed.

‘We were all three wrong,’ said Dr Reilly gravely.

‘So it seems,’ said Captain Maitland.

Chapter 13. Hercule Poirot Arrives

I don’t think I shall ever forget my first sight of Hercule Poirot. Of course, I got used to him later on, but to begin with it was a shock, and I think everyone else must have felt the same!

I don’t know what I’d imagined – something rather like Sherlock Holmes – long and lean with a keen, clever face. Of course, I knew he was a foreigner, but I hadn’t expected him to bequite as foreign as he was, if you know what I mean.

When you saw him you just wanted to laugh! He was like something on the stage or at the pictures. To begin with, he wasn’t above five-foot five, I should think – an odd, plump little man, quite old, with an enormous moustache, and a head like an egg. He looked like a hairdresser in a comic play!

And this was the man who was going to find out who killed Mrs Leidner!

I suppose something of my disgust must have shown in my face, for almost straightaway he said to me with a queer kind of twinkle:

‘You disapprove of me, ma soeur? Remember, the pudding proves itself only when you eat it.’

The proof of the pudding’s in the eating, I suppose he meant.

Well, that’s a true enough saying, but I couldn’t say I felt much confidence myself!

Dr Reilly brought him out in his car soon after lunch on Sunday, and his first procedure was to ask us all to assemble together.

We did so in the dining-room, all sitting round the table. Mr Poirot sat at the head of it with Dr Leidner one side and Dr Reilly the other.

When we were all assembled, Dr Leidner cleared his throat and spoke in his gentle, hesitating voice.

‘I dare say you have all heard of M. Hercule Poirot. He was passing through Hassanieh today, and has very kindly agreed to break his journey to help us. The Iraqi police and Captain Maitland are, I am sure, doing their very best, but – but there are circumstances in the case’ – he floundered and shot an appealing glance at Dr Reilly – ‘there may, it seems, be difficulties…’

‘It is not all the square and overboard – no?’ said the little man at the top of the table. Why, he couldn’t even speak English properly!

‘Oho, he must be caught!’ cried Mrs Mercado. ‘It would be unbearable if he got away!’

I noticed the little foreigner’s eyes rest on her appraisingly.

‘He? Who is he, madame?’ he asked.

‘Why, the murderer, of course.’

‘Ah! the murderer,’ said Hercule Poirot.

He spoke as though the murderer was of no consequence at all!

We all stared at him. He looked from one face to another.

‘It is likely, I think,’ he said, ‘that you have none of you been brought in contact with a case of murder before?’

There was a general murmur of assent.

Hercule Poirot smiled.

‘It is clear, therefore, that you do not understand the A B C of the position. There are unpleasantnesses! Yes, there are a lot of unpleasantnesses. To begin with, there is suspicion.’

‘Suspicion?’

It was Miss Johnson who spoke. Mr Poirot looked at her thoughtfully. I had an idea that he regarded her with approval. He looked as though he were thinking: ‘Here is a sensible, intelligent person!’

‘Yes, mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘Suspicion! Let us not make the bones about it. You are all under suspicion here in this house. The cook, the house-boy, the scullion, the pot-boy – yes, and all the members of the expedition too.’

Mrs Mercado started up, her face working.

‘How dare you? How dare you say such a thing? This is odious – unbearable! Dr Leidner – you can’t sit here and let this man – let this man–’

Dr Leidner said wearily: ‘Please try and be calm, Marie.’

Mr Mercado stood up too. His hands were shaking and his eyes were bloodshot.

‘I agree. It is an outrage – an insult–’

‘No, no,’ said Mr Poirot. ‘I do not insult you. I merely ask you all to face facts. In a house where murder has been committed, every inmate comes in for a certain share of suspicion. I ask you what evidence is there that the murderer came from outside at all?’

Mrs Mercado cried: ‘But of course he did! It stands to reason! Why–’ She stopped and said more slowly, ‘Anything else would be incredible!’

‘You are doubtless correct, madame,’ said Poirot with a bow. ‘I explain to you only how the matter must be approached. First I assure myself of the fact that everyone in this room is innocent. After that I seek the murderer elsewhere.’

‘Is it not possible that that may be a little late in the day?’ asked Father Lavigny suavely.

‘The tortoise, mon pere, overtook the hare.’

Father Lavigny shrugged his shoulders.

‘We are in your hands,’ he said resignedly. ‘Convince yourself as soon as may be of our innocence in this terrible business.’

‘As rapidly as possible. It was my duty to make the position clear to you, so that you may not resent the impertinence of any questions I may have to ask. Perhaps, mon pere, the Church will set an example?’

‘Ask any questions you please of me,’ said Father Lavigny gravely.

‘This is your first season out here?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you arrived – when?’

‘Three weeks ago almost to a day. That is, on the 27th of February.’

‘Coming from?’

‘The Order of the Peres Blancs at Carthage.’

‘Thank you, mon pere. Were you at any time acquainted with Mrs Leidner before coming here?’

‘No, I had never seen the lady until I met her here.’

‘Will you tell me what you were doing at the time of the tragedy?’

‘I was working on some cuneiform tablets in my own room.’

I noticed that Poirot had at his elbow a rough plan of the building.

‘That is the room at the south-west corner corresponding to that of Mrs Leidner on the opposite side?’

‘Yes.’

‘At what time did you go to your room?’

‘Immediately after lunch. I should say at about twenty minutes to one.’

‘And you remained there until – when?’

‘Just before three o’clock. I had heard the station wagon come back – and then I heard it drive off again. I wondered why, and came out to see.’

‘During the time that you were there did you leave the room at all?’

‘No, not once.’

‘And you heard or saw nothing that might have any bearing on the tragedy?’

‘No.’

‘You have no window giving on the courtyard in your room?’

‘No, both the windows give on the countryside.’

‘Could you hear at all what was happening in the courtyard?’

‘Not very much. I heard Mr Emmott passing my room and going up to the roof. He did so once or twice.’

‘Can you remember at what time?’

‘No, I’m afraid I can’t. I was engrossed in my work, you see.’

There was a pause and then Poirot said:

‘Can you say or suggest anything at all that might throw light on this business? Did you, for instance, notice anything in the days preceding the murder?’

Father Lavigny looked slightly uncomfortable.

He shot a half-questioning look at Dr Leidner.

‘That is rather a difficult question, monsieur,’ he said gravely. ‘If you ask me I must reply frankly that in my opinion Mrs Leidner was clearly in dread of someone or something. She was definitely nervous about strangers. I imagine she had a reason for this nervousness of hers – but I know nothing. She did not confide in me.’

Poirot cleared his throat and consulted some notes that he held in his hand. ‘Two nights ago I understand there was a scare of burglary.’