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Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

Page 35

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‘A thousand excuses. I fear I must go back.’

Sarah looked at him. ‘Anything the matter?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, fever. It’s been coming on ever since lunch.’

Sarah scrutinized him. ‘Malaria?’

‘Yes. I’ll go back and take quinine. Hope this won’t be a bad attack. It is a legacy from a visit to the Congo.’

‘Shall I come with you?’ asked Sarah.

‘No, no. I have my case of drugs with me. A confounded nuisance. Go on, all of you.’

He walked quickly back in the direction of the camp.

Sarah looked undecidedly after him for a minute, then she met Raymond’s eyes, smiled at him, and the Frenchman was forgotten.

For a time the six of them, Carol, herself, Lennox, Mr Cope, Nadine and Raymond, kept together.

Then, somehow or other, she and Raymond had drifted apart. They walked on, climbing up rocks, turning ledges, and rested at last in a shady spot.

There was a silence—then Raymond said:

‘What’s your name? It’s King, I know. But your other name.’

‘Sarah.’

‘Sarah. May I call you that?’

‘Of course.’

‘Sarah, will you tell me something about yourself?’

Leaning back against the rocks, she talked, telling him of her life at home in Yorkshire, of her dogs and the aunt who had brought her up.

Then, in his turn, Raymond told her a little, disjointedly, of his own life.

After that there was a long silence. Their hands strayed together. They sat, like children, hand in hand, strangely content.

Then, as the sun grew lower, Raymond stirred.

‘I’m going back now,’ he said. ‘No, not with you. I want to go back by myself. There’s something I have to say and do. Once that’s done, once I’ve proved to myself that I’m not a coward—then—then—I shan’t be ashamed to come to you and ask you to help me. I shall need help, you know, I shall probably have to borrow money from you.’

Sarah smiled.

‘I’m glad you’re a realist. You can count on me.’

‘But first I’ve got to do this alone.’

‘Do what?’

The young boyish face grew suddenly stern. Raymond Boynton said: ‘I’ve got to prove my courage. It’s now or never.’

Then, abruptly, he turned and strode away.

Sarah leant back against the rock and watched his receding figure. Something in his words had vaguely alarmed her. He had seemed so intense—so terribly in earnest and strung up. For a moment she wished she had gone with him…

But she rebuked herself sternly for that wish. Raymond had desired to stand alone, to test his new-found courage. That was his right.



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