Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

II

Nadine found Lennox sitting at the top of the Graeco-Roman theatre. He was in such a brown study that he hardly noticed her till she sank breathless at his side. ‘Lennox.’

‘Nadine.’ He half turned.

She said: ‘We haven’t been able to talk until now. But you know, don’t you, that I am not leaving you?’

He said gravely: ‘Did you ever really mean to, Nadine?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. You see, it seemed to be the only possible thing left to do. I hoped—I hoped that you would come after me. Poor Jefferson, how mean I have been to him.’

Lennox gave a sudden curt laugh.

‘No, you haven’t. Anyone who is as unselfish as Cope ought to be given full scope for his nobility! And you were right, you know, Nadine. When you told me that you were going away with him you gave me the shock of my life! You know, honestly, I think I must have been going queer or something lately. Why the hell didn’t I snap my fingers in Mother’s face and go off with you when you wanted me to?’

She said gently: ‘You couldn’t, my dear, you couldn’t.’

Lennox said musingly: ‘Mother was a damned queer character…I believe she’d got us all half hypnotized.’

‘She had.’

Lennox mused a minute or two longer. Then he said: ‘When you told me that afternoon—it was just like being hit a crack on the head! I walked back half dazed, and then, suddenly I saw what a damned fool I’d been! I realized that there was only one thing to be done if I didn’t want to lose you.’

He felt her stiffen. His tone became grimmer.

‘I went and—’

‘Don’t…’

He gave her a quick glance.

‘I went and—argued with her.’ He spoke with a complete change of tone—careful and rather toneless. ‘I told her that I got to choose between her and you—and that I chose you.’

There was a pause.

He repeated, in a tone of curious self-approval:

‘Yes, that’s what I said to her.’

Chapter 14

Poirot met two people on his way home. The first was Mr Jefferson Cope.

‘M. Hercule Poirot? My name’s Jefferson Cope.’

The two men shook hands ceremoniously.

Then, falling into step beside Poirot, Mr Cope explained: ‘It’s just got round to me that you’re making a kind of routine inquiry into the death of my old friend Mrs Boynton. That certainly was a shocking business. Of course, mind you, the old lady ought never to have undertaken such a fatiguing journey. But she was headstrong, M. Poirot. Her family could do nothing with her. She was by way of being a household tyrant—had had her own way too long, I guess. It certainly is true what she said went. Yes, sir, that certainly was true.’

There was a momentary pause.

‘I’d just like to tell you, M. Poirot, that I’m an old friend of the Boynton family. Naturally they’re all a good deal upset over this business; they’re a trifle nervous and highly strung, too, you know, so if there are any arrangements to be made—necessary formalities, arrangements for the funeral—transport of the body to Jerusalem, why, I’ll take as much trouble as I can off their hands. Just call upon me for anything that needs doing.’

‘I am sure the family will appreciate your offer,’ said Poirot. He added, ‘You are, I think, a special friend of young Mrs Boynton’s.’

Mr Jefferson Cope went a little pink.

‘Well, we won’t say much about that, M. Poirot. I hear you had an interview with Mrs Lennox Boynton this morning, and she may have given you a hint how things were between us, but that’s all over now. Mrs Boynton is a very fine woman and she feels that her first duty is to her husband in his sad bereavement.’