Murder in Mesopotamia: A Hercule Poirot Mystery (Hercule Poirot 14)

I heard Father Lavigny murmur something, but when I said “Pardon?” he merely shook his head and did not repeat his remark.

That afternoon Mr. Coleman said to me: “Matter of fact I didn’t like Mrs. L. any too much at first. She used to jump down my throat every time I opened my mouth. But I’ve begun to understand her better now. She’s one of the kindest women I’ve ever met. You find yourself telling her all the foolish scrapes you ever got into before you know where you are. She’s got her knife into Sheila Reilly, I know, but then Sheila’s been damned rude to her once or twice. That’s the worst of Sheila—she’s got no manners. And a temper like the devil!”

That I could well believe. Dr. Reilly spoilt her.

“Of course she’s bound to get a bit full of herself, being the only young woman in the place. But that doesn’t excuse her talking to Mrs. Leidner as though Mrs. Leidner were her great-aunt. Mrs. L.’s not exactly a chicken, but she’s a damned good-looking woman. Rather like those fairy women who come out of marshes with lights and lure you away.” He added bitterly, “You wouldn’t find Sheila luring anyone. All she does is to tick a fellow off.”

I only remember two other incidents of any kind of significance.

One was when I went to the laboratory to fetch some acetone to get the stickiness off my fingers from mending the pottery. Mr. Mercado was sitting in a corner, his head was laid down on his arms and I fancied he was asleep. I took the bottle I wanted and went off with it.

That evening, to my great surprise, Mrs. Mercado tackled me.

“Did you take a bottle of acetone from the lab?”

“Yes,” I said. “I did.”

“You know perfectly well that there’s a small bottle always kept in the antika room.”

She spoke quite angrily.

“Is there? I didn’t know.”

“I think you did! You just wanted to come spying round. I know what hospital nurses are.”

I stared at her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Mercado,” I said with dignity. “I’m sure I don’t want to spy on anyone.”

“Oh, no! Of course not. Do you think I don’t know what you’re here for?”

Really, for a minute or two I thought she must have been drinking. I went away without saying any more. But I thought it was very odd.

The other thing was nothing very much. I was trying to entice a pi dog pup with a piece of bread. It was very timid, however, like all Arab dogs—and was convinced I meant no good. It slunk away and I followed it—out through the archway and round the corner of the house. I came round so sharply that before I knew I had cannoned into Father Lavigny and another man who were standing together—and in a minute I realized that the second man was the same one Mrs. Leidner and I had noticed that day trying to peer through the window.

I apologized and Father Lavigny smiled, and with a word of farewell greeting to the other man he returned to the house with me.

“You know,” he said. “I am very ashamed. I am a student of Oriental languages and none of the men on the work can understand me! It is humiliating, do you not think? I was trying my Arabic on that man, who is a townsman, to see if I got on better—but it still wasn’t very successful. Leidner says my Arabic is too pure.”

That was all. But it just passed through my head that it was odd the same man should still be hanging round the house.

That night we had a scare.

It must have been about two in the morning. I’m a light sleeper, as most nurses have to be. I was awake and sitting up in bed by the time that my door opened.

“Nurse, nurse!”

It was Mrs. Leidner’s voice, low and urgent.

I struck a match and lighted the candle.

She was standing by the door in a long blue dressing gown. She was looking petrified with terror.

“There’s someone—someone—in the room next to mine . . . I heard him—scratching on the wall.”

I jumped out of bed and came to her.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m here. Don’t be afraid, my dear.”