Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

She offered the word more as a suggestion than as a fact.

‘They all went out with Miss King,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘Miss Pierce and I very sensibly remained where we were.’

A faintly wistful look was observable in Miss Pierce’s eye at this point.

‘I detest vulgar curiosity!’ continued Lady Westholme.

The wistful look became more pronounced. It was clear that Miss Pierce had had perforce to hate vulgar curiosity, too!

‘Later,’ concluded Lady Westholme, ‘the dragoman and Miss King returned. I suggested that dinner should be served immediately to the four of us, so that the Boynton family could dine later in the marquee without the embarrassment of strangers being present. My suggestion was adopted and immediately after the meal I retired to my tent. Miss King and Miss Pierce did the same. Mr Cope, I believe, remained in the marquee as he was a friend of the family and thought he might be of some assistance to them. That is all I know, M. Poirot.’

‘When Miss King had broken the news, all the Boynton family accompanied her out of the marquee?’

‘Yes—no, I believe, now that you come to mention it, that the red-haired girl stayed behind. Perhaps you can remember, Miss Pierce?’

‘Yes, I think—I am quite sure she did.’

Poirot asked: ‘What did she do?’

Lady Westholme stared at him.

‘What did she do, M. Poirot? She did not do anything as far as I can remember.’

‘I mean was she sewing—or reading—did she look anxious—did she say anything?’

‘Well, really—’ Lady Westholme frowned. ‘She—er—she just sat there as far as I can remember.’

‘She twiddled her fingers,’ said Miss Pierce suddenly. ‘I remember noticing—poor thing, I thought, it shows what she’s feeling! Not that there was anything to show in her face, you know—just her hands turning and twisting.’

‘Once,’ went on Miss Pierce conversationally, ‘I remember tearing up a pound note that way—not thinking of what I was doing. “Shall I catch the first train and go to her?” I thought (it was a great-aunt of mine—taken suddenly ill). “Or shall I not?” And I couldn’t make up my mind one way or the other and there, I looked down, and instead of the telegram I was tearing up a pound note—a pound note—into tiny pieces!’

Miss Pierce paused dramatically.

Not entirely approving of this sudden bid for the limelight on the part of her satellite, Lady Westholme said coldly: ‘Is there anything else, M. Poirot?’

With a start, Poirot seemed to come out of a brown study. ‘Nothing—nothing—you have been most clear—most definite.’

‘I have an excellent memory,’ said Lady Westholme with satisfaction.

‘One last little demand, Lady Westholme,’ said Poirot. ‘Please continue to sit as you are sitting—without looking round. Now would you be so kind as to describe to me just what Miss Pierce is wearing today—that is if Miss Pierce does not object?’

‘Oh, no! not in the least!’ twittered Miss Pierce.

‘Really, M. Poirot, is there any object—’

‘Please be so kind as to do as I ask, madame.’

Lady Westholme shrugged her shoulders and then said with a rather bad grace:

‘Miss Pierce has on a striped brown and white cotton dress, and is wearing with it a Sudanese belt of red, blue and beige leather. She is wearing beige silk stockings and brown glacé strap shoes. There is a ladder in her left stocking. She has a necklace of cornelian beads and one of bright royal blue beads—and is wearing a brooch with a pearl butterfly on it. She has an imitation scarab ring on the third finger of her right hand. On her head she has a double terai of pink and brown felt.’

She paused—a pause of quiet competence. Then:

‘Is there anything further?’ she asked coldly.

Poirot spread out his hands in a wild gesture.

‘You have my entire admiration, madame. Your observation is of the highest order.’