Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

‘They’re taking me away! They may be going to kill me…I don’t really belong to them, you know. My name isn’t really Boynton…’

She hurried on, her words coming fast and tumbling over each other.

‘I’ll trust you with the secret. I’m—I’m royal, really! I’m the heiress to a throne. That’s why—there are enemies all round me. They try to poison me—all sorts of things…If you could help me—to get away—’

She broke off. Footsteps. ‘Jinny—’

Beautiful in her sudden startled gesture, the girl put a finger to her lips, threw Gerard an imploring glance, and ran back.

‘I’m coming, Ray.’

Dr Gerard walked on with his eyebrows raised. Slowly he shook his head and frowned.

Chapter 10

It was the morning of the start to Petra.

Sarah came down to find a big masterful woman with a rocking-horse nose, whom she had already noticed in the hotel, outside the main entrance, objecting fiercely to the size of the car.

‘A great deal too small! Four passengers? And a dragoman? Then, of course, we must have a much larger saloon. Please take that car away and return with one of an adequate size.’

In vain did the representative of Messrs Castle raise his voice in explanation. That was the size of car always provided. It was really a most comfortable car. A larger car was not suitable for desert travel. The large woman, metaphorically speaking, rolled over him like a large steamroller.

Then she turned her attention to Sarah.

‘Miss King? I am Lady Westholme. I am sure you agree with me that that car was grossly inadequate as to size?’

‘Well,’ said Sarah cautiously, ‘I agree that a larger one would be more comfortable!’

The young man from Castle’s murmured that a larger car would add to the price.

‘The price,’ said Lady Westholme firmly, ‘is inclusive, and I shall certainly refuse to sanction any addition to it. Your prospectus distinctly states “in comfortable saloon car”. You will keep to the terms of your agreement.’

Recognizing defeat, the young man from Castle’s murmured something about seeing what he could do and wilted away from the spot.

Lady Westholme turned to Sarah, a smile of triumph on her weather-beaten countenance, her large red rocking-horse nostrils dilated exultantly.

Lady Westholme was a very well-known figure in the English political world. When Lord Westholme, a middle-aged, simple-minded peer whose only interests in life were hunting, shooting and fishing, was returning from a trip to the United States, one of his fellow passengers was a Mrs Vansittart. Shortly afterwards Mrs Vansittart became Lady Westholme. The match was often cited as one of the examples of the danger of ocean voyages. The new Lady Westholme lived entirely in tweeds and stout brogues, bred dogs, bullied the villagers and forced her husband pitilessly into public life. It being borne in upon her, however, that politics were not Lord Westholme’s métier in life and never would be, she graciously allowed him to resume his sporting activities and herself stood for Parliament. Being elected with a substantial majority, Lady Westholme threw herself with vigour into political life, being especially active at Question Time. Cartoons of her soon began to appear (always a sure sign of success). As a public figure she stood for the old-fashioned values of family life, welfare work amongst women, and was an ardent supporter of the League of Nations. She had decided views on questions of Agriculture, Housing and Slum Clearance. She was much respected and almost universally disliked! It was highly possible that she would be given an under-secretaryship when her party returned to power. At the moment a Liberal Government (owing to a split in the National Government between Labour and Conservatives) was somewhat unexpectedly in power.

Lady Westholme looked with grim satisfaction after the departing car. ‘Men always think they can impose upon women,’ she said.

Sarah thought that it would be a brave man who thought he could impose upon Lady Westholme! She introduced Dr Gerard, who had just come out of the hotel.

‘Your name is, of course, familiar to me,’ said Lady Westholme, shaking hands. ‘I was talking to Professor Chantereau the other day in Paris. I have been taking up the question of the treatment of pauper lunatics very strongly lately. Very strongly indeed. Shall we come inside while we wait for a better car to be obtained?’

A vague little middle-aged lady with wisps of grey hair who was hovering nearby turned out to be Miss Amabel Pierce, the fourth member of the party. She, too, was swept into the lounge under Lady Westholme’s protecting wing.

‘You are a professional woman, Miss King?’

‘I’ve just taken my M.B.’

‘Good,’ said Lady Westholme with condescending approval. ‘If anything is to be accomplished, mark my words, it is women who will do it.’

Uneasily conscious for the first time of her sex, Sarah followed Lady Westholme meekly to a seat.

There, as they sat waiting, Lady Westholme informed them that she had refused an invitation to stay with the High Commissioner during her stay in Jerusalem. ‘I did not want to be hampered by officialdom. I wished to look into things by myself.’

‘What things?’ Sarah wondered.