Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

‘It would be idiotic, of course. That ought to show you that my mother was alive and well as I’ve said. Miss King was flustered and upset and made a mistake.’

‘One asks oneself,’ said Poirot, calmly sweeping on, ‘whether there could possibly be a reason for such conduct? It seems, on the face of it, that Raymond Boynton cannot be guilty, since at the only time he was known to approach his stepmother that afternoon she had already been dead for some time. Now, supposing, therefore, that Raymond Boynton is innocent, can we explain his conduct?

‘And I say, that on the assumption that he is innocent, we can! For I remember that fragment of conversation I overheard. “You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?” He comes back from his walk and finds her dead and at once his guilty memory envisages a certain possibility. The plan has been carried out—not by him—but by his fellow planner. Tout simplement—he suspects that his sister, Carol Boynton, is guilty.’

‘It’s a lie,’ said Raymond in a low, trembling voice.

Poirot went on: ‘Let us now take the possibility of Carol Boynton being the murderess. What is the evidence against her? She has the same highly-strung temperament—the kind of temperament that might see such a deed coloured with heroism. It was she to whom Raymond Boynton was talking that night in Jerusalem. Carol Boynton returned to the camp at ten minues past five. According to her own story she

went up and spoke to her mother. No one saw her do so. The camp was deserted—the boys were asleep. Lady Westholme, Miss Pierce and Mr Cope were exploring caves out of sight of the camp. There was no witness of Carol Boynton’s possible action. The time would agree well enough. The case, then, against Carol Boynton is a perfectly possible one.’ He paused. Carol had raised her head. Her eyes looked steadily and sorrowfully into his.

‘There is one other point. The following morning, very early, Carol Boynton was seen to throw something into the stream. There is reason to believe that that something was a hypodermic syringe.’

‘Comment?’ Dr Gerard looked up surprised. ‘But my hypodermic was returned. Yes, yes, I have it now.’

Poirot nodded vigorously.

‘Yes, yes. This second hypodermic, it is very curious—very interesting. I have been given to understand that this hypodermic belonged to Miss King. Is that so?’

Sarah paused for a fraction of a second.

Carol spoke quickly: ‘It was not Miss King’s syringe,’ she said. ‘It was mine.’

‘Then you admit throwing it away, mademoiselle?’

She hesitated just a second.

‘Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I?’

‘Carol!’ It was Nadine. She leaned forward, her eyes wide and distressed. ‘Carol…Oh, I don’t understand…’

Carol turned and looked at her. There was something hostile in her glance.

‘There’s nothing to understand! I threw away an old hypodermic. I never touched the—the poison.’

Sarah’s voice broke in: ‘It is quite true what Miss Pierce told you, M. Poirot. It was my syringe.’

Poirot smiled.

‘It is very confusing, this affair of the hypodermic—and yet, I think, it could be explained. Ah, well, we have now two cases made out—the case for the innocence of Raymond Boynton—the case for the guilt of his sister Carol. But me, I am scrupulously fair. I look always on both sides. Let us examine what occurred if Carol Boynton was innocent.

‘She returns to the camp, she goes up to her stepmother, and she finds her—shall we say—dead! What is the first thing she will think? She will suspect that her brother Raymond may have killed her. She does not know what to do. So she says nothing. And presently, about an hour later, Raymond Boynton returns and having presumably spoken to his mother, says nothing of anything being amiss. Do you not think that then her suspicions would become certainties? Perhaps she goes to his tent and finds there a hypodermic syringe. Then, indeed, she is sure! She takes it quickly and hides it. Early in the morning she flings it as far away as she can.

‘There is one more indication that Carol Boynton is innocent. She assures me when I question her that she and her brother never seriously intended to carry out their plan. I ask her to swear—and she swears immediately and with the utmost solemnity that she is not guilty of the crime! You see, that is the way she puts it. She does not swear that they are not guilty. She swears for herself, not her brother—and thinks that I will not pay special attention to the pronoun.

‘Eh bien, that is the case for the innocence of Carol Boynton. And now let us go back a step and consider not the innocence but the possible guilt of Raymond. Let us suppose that Carol is speaking the truth, that Mrs Boynton was alive at five-ten. Under what circumstances can Raymond be guilty? We can suppose that he killed his mother at ten minutes to six when he went up to speak to her. There were boys about the camp, true, but the light was fading. It might have been managed, but it then follows that Miss King lied. Remember, she came back to the camp only five minutes after Raymond. From the distance she would see him go up to his mother. Then, when later she is found dead, Miss King realizes that Raymond has killed her, and to save him, she lies—knowing that Dr Gerard is down with fever and cannot expose her lie!’

‘I did not lie!’ said Sarah clearly.

‘There is yet another possibility. Miss King, as I have said, reached the camp a few minutes after Raymond. If Raymond Boynton found his mother alive, it may have been Miss King who administered the fatal injection. She believed that Mrs Boynton was fundamentally evil. She may have seen herself as a just executioner. That would equally well explain her lying about the time of death.’

Sarah had grown very pale. She spoke in a low, steady voice.

‘It is true that I spoke of the expediency of one person dying to save many. It was the Place of Sacrifice that suggested the idea to me. But I can swear to you that I never harmed that disgusting old woman—nor would the idea of doing so ever have entered my head!’

‘And yet,’ said Poirot softly, ‘one of you two must be lying.’

Raymond Boynton shifted in his chair. He cried out impetuously: