"Certainly. Certainly."

"Why not postpone all this until an autopsy can be made and you discover whether or not your suspicions are justified. I think all this is rather like putting the cart before the horse."

Poirot waved a grandiloquent hand. "This is the method of Hercule Poirot," he announced.

Pressing her lips together, Sarah left the room.

LADY WESTHOLME ENTERED the room with the assurance of a transatlantic liner coming into dock. Miss Annabel Pierce, an indeterminate craft, followed in the liner's wake and sat down in an inferior make of chair slightly in the background.

"Certainly, M. Poirot," boomed Lady Westholme, "I shall be delighted to assist you by any means in my power. I have always considered that in matters of this kind one has a public duty to perform-"

When Lady Westholme's public duty had held the stage for some minutes, Poirot was adroit enough to get in a question.

"I have a perfect recollection of the afternoon in question," replied Lady Westholme. "Miss Pierce and I will do all we can to assist you."

"Oh, yes," sighed Miss Pierce, almost ecstatically. "So tragic, was it not? Dead-just like that-in the twinkle of an eye!"

"If you will tell me exactly what occurred on the afternoon in question?"

"Certainly," said Lady Westholme. "After we had finished lunch I decided to take a brief siesta. The morning excursion had been somewhat fatiguing. Not that I was really tired-I seldom am. I do not really know what fatigue is. One has so often, on public occasions, no matter what one really feels-"

[unreadable] an adroit murmur from Poirot.

"I saw, I was in favor of a siesta. Miss Pierce agreed with me."

"Oh, yes," sighed Miss Pierce. "And I was terribly tired all the morning. Such a dangerous climb-and although interesting, most exhausting. I'm afraid I'm not quite as strong as Lady Westholme."

"Fatigue," said Lady Westholme, "can be conquered like everything else. I make a point of never giving in to my bodily needs."

Miss Pierce looked at her admiringly.

Poirot said: "After lunch, then, you two ladies went to your tents?"

"Yes."

"Mrs. Boynton was then sitting at the mouth of her cave?"

"Her daughter-in-law assisted her there before she herself went off."

"You could both see her?"

"Oh yes," said Miss Pierce. "She was opposite, you know-only of course a little way along and up above."

Lady Westholme elucidated the statement. "The caves opened onto a ledge. Below that ledge were some tents. Then there was a small stream and across that stream was the big marquee and some other tents. Miss Pierce and I had tents near the marquee. She was on the right side of the marquee and I was on the left. The openings of our tents faced the ledge, but of course it was some distance away."

"Nearly two hundred yards, I understand."

"Possibly."

"I have here a plan," said Poirot, "concocted with the help of the dragoman, Mahmoud."

Lady Westholme remarked that in that case it was probably wrong! "That man is grossly inaccurate. I have checked his statements from my Baedeker. Several times his information was definitely misleading."

"According to my plan," said Poirot, "the cave next to Mrs. Boynton's was occupied by her son, Lennox, and his wife. Raymond, Carol and Ginevra Boynton had tents just below but more to the right-in fact almost opposite the marquee. On the right of Ginevra Boynton's was Dr. Gerard's tent and next to his was that of Miss King. On the other side-next to the marquee on the left-you and Mr. Cope had tents. Miss Pierce's, as you mentioned, was on the right of the marquee. Is that correct?"

Lady Westholme admitted grudgingly that as far as she knew it was.

"I thank you. That is perfectly clear. Pray continue, Lady Westholme."

Lady Westholme smiled graciously on him and went on: "At about a quarter to four I strolled along to Miss Pierce's tent to see if she were awake yet and felt like a stroll. She was sitting in the doorway of the tent reading. We agreed to start in about half an hour when the sun was less hot. I went back to my tent and read for about twenty-five minutes. Then I went along and joined Miss Pierce. She was ready and we started out. Everyone in the camp seemed asleep; there was no one about and, seeing Mrs. Boynton sitting up there alone, I suggested to Miss Pierce that we should ask her if she wanted anything before we left."

"Yes, you did. Most thoughtful of you, I considered it," murmured Miss Pierce.

"I felt it to be my duty," said Lady Westholme with a rich complacency.

"And then for her to be so rude about it!" exclaimed Miss Pierce.

Poirot looked inquiring.

"Our path passed just under the ledge," explained Lady Westholme, "and I called up to her, saying that we were going for a stroll and asking could we do anything for her before we went. Do you know, M. Poirot, absolutely the only answer she gave us was a grunt! A grunt! She just looked at us as though we were-as though we were dirt!"

"Disgraceful it was!" said Miss Pierce, flushing.

"I must confess," said Lady Westholme, reddening a little, "that I then made a somewhat uncharitable remark."

"I think you were quite justified," said Miss Pierce.

"Quite-under the circumstances."

"What was this remark?" asked Poirot.

"I said to Miss Pierce that perhaps she drank! Really, her manner was most peculiar. It had been all along. I thought it possible that drink might account for it. The evils of alcoholic indulgence, as I very well know-"

Dexterously Poirot steered the conversation away from the drink question.

"Had her manner been very peculiar on this particular day? At lunch time, for instance?"

"No," said Lady Westholme, considering. "No, I should say that then her manner had been fairly normal-for an American of that type, that is to say," she added condescendingly.

"She was very abusive to that servant," said Miss Pierce

"Which one?"

"Not very long before we started out."

"Oh, yes, I remember. She did seem extraordinarily annoyed with him! Of course," went on Lady Westholme "to have servants about who cannot understand a word of English is very trying, but what I say is that when one is traveling one must make allowances."

"What servant was this?" asked Poirot.

"One of the Bedouin servants attached to the camp. He went up to her. I think she must have sent him to fetch her something and I suppose he brought the wrong thing. I don't really know what it was, but she was very angry about it. The poor man slunk away as fast as he could, and she shook her stick at him and called out."

"What did she call out?"

"We were too far away to hear. At least I didn't hear anything distinctly. Did you, Miss Pierce?"

"No, I didn't. I think she'd sent him to fetch something from her younger daughter's tent-or perhaps she was angry with him for going into her daughter's tent-I couldn't say exactly."

"What did he look like?"

Miss Pierce, to whom the question was addressed, shook her head vaguely. "Really, I couldn't say. He was too far away. All these Arabs look alike to me."

"He was a man of more than average height," said Lady Westholme, "and wore the usual native headdress. He had on a pair of very torn and patched breeches-really disgraceful they were-and his puttees were wound most untidily-all anyhow! These men need discipline!"

"You could point the man out among the camp servants?"

"I doubt it. We didn't see his face-it was too far away. And, as Miss Pierce says, really, these Arabs all look alike."

"I wonder," said Poirot thoughtfully, "what it was he did to make Mrs. Boynton so angry?"

"They are very trying to the patience sometimes," said Lady Westholme. "One of them took my shoes away, though I had expressly told him-by pantomime too-that I preferred to clean my shoes myself."

"Always I do that too," said Poirot, diverted for a moment from his interrogation. "I take everywhere my little shoe-cleaning outfit. Also, I take a duster."

"So do I." Lady Westholme sounded quite human. "Because these Arabs they do not remove the dust from one's belongings-"

"Never! Of course one has to dust one's things three or four times a day-"

"But it is well worth it."

"Yes, indeed. I cannot stand dirt!" Lady Westholme looked positively militant. She added with feeling: "The flies-in the bazaars-terrible!"

"Well, well," said Poirot, looking slightly guilty. "We can soon inquire from this man what it was that irritated Mrs. Boynton. To continue with your story?"

"We strolled along slowly," said Lady Westholme. "And then we met Dr. Gerard. He was staggering along and looked very ill. I could see at once he had fever."

"He was shaking," put in Miss Pierce. "Shaking all over."

"I saw at once he had an attack of malaria coming on," said Lady Westholme. "I offered to come back with him and get him some quinine but he said he had his own supply with him."

"Poor man," said Miss Pierce. "You know it always seems so dreadful to me to see a doctor ill. It seems all wrong, somehow."

"We strolled on," continued Lady Westholme. "And then we sat down on a rock."

Miss Pierce murmured: "Really-so tired after the morning's exertion-the climbing-"

"I never feel fatigue," said Lady Westholme firmly. "But there was no point in going further. We had a very good view of all the surrounding scenery."

"Were you out of sight of the camp?"

"No, we were sitting facing towards it."

"So romantic," murmured Miss Pierce. "A camp pitched in the middle of a wilderness of rose-red rocks." She sighed and shook her head.

"That camp could be much better run than it is," said Lady Westholme. Her rocking-horse nostrils dilated. "I shall take up the matter with Castle's. I am not at all sure that the drinking water is boiled as well as filtered. It should be. I shall point that out to them."