Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

‘It was taken,’ said Dr Gerard quickly.

‘Taken—and returned?’

‘Yes.’

‘Odd,’ said Poirot. ‘Very odd. Otherwise everything fits so well…’

Colonel Carbury looked at him curiously.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘What’s your expert opinion? Was it murder—or wasn’t it?’

Poirot held up a hand.

‘One moment. We have not yet arrived at that point. There is still some evidence to consider.’

‘What evidence? You’ve had it all.’

‘Ah! but this is evidence that I, Hercule Poirot, bring to you.’

He nodded his head and smiled a little at their two astonished faces.

‘Yes, it is droll, that! That I, to whom you tell the story, should in return present you with a piece of evidence about which you do not know. It was like this. In the Solomon Hotel, one night, I go to the window to make sure it is closed—’

‘Closed—or open?’ asked Carbury.

‘Closed,’ said Poirot firmly. ‘It was open, so naturally I go to close it. But before I do so, as my hand is on the latch, I hear a voice speaking—an agreeable voice, low and clear with a tremor in it of nervous excitement. I say to myself it is a voice I will know again. And what does it say, this voice? It says these words, “You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?”’

‘At the moment, naturellement, I do not take those words as referring to a killing of flesh and blood. I think it is an author or perhaps a playwright who speaks. But now—I am not so sure. That is to say I am sure it was nothing of the kind.’

Again he paused before saying: ‘Messieurs, I will tell you this—to the best of my knowledge and belief those words were spoken by a young man whom I saw later in the lounge of the hotel and who was, so they told me on inquiring, a young man of the name of Raymond Boynton.’

Chapter 3

‘Raymond Boynton said that!’

The exclamation broke from the Frenchman.

‘You think it unlikely—psychologically speaking?’ Poirot inquired placidly.

Gerard shook his head.

‘No, I should not say that. I was surprised, yes. If you follow me, I was surprised just because Raymond Boynton was so eminently fitted to be a suspect.’

Colonel Carbury sighed. ‘These psychological fellers!’ the sigh seemed to say.

‘Question is,’ he murmured, ‘what are we going to do about it?’

Gerard shrugged his shoulders.

‘I do not see what you can do,’ he confessed. ‘The evidence is bound to be inconclusive. You may know that murder has been done but it will be difficult to prove it.’

‘I see,’ said Colonel Carbury. ‘We suspect that murder’s been done and we just sit back and twiddle our fingers! Don’t like it!’ He added, as if in extenuation, his former odd plea, ‘I’m a tidy man.’

‘I know. I know.’ Poirot nodded his head sympathetically. ‘You would like to clear this up. You would like to know definitely, exactly what occurred and how it occurred. And you, Dr Gerard? You have said that there is nothing to be done—that the evidence is bound to be inconclusive? That is probably true. But are you satisfied that the matter should rest so?’

‘She was a bad

life,’ said Gerard slowly. ‘In any case, she might have died very shortly—a week—a month—a year.’