Chapter 2 Chapter 2 July 16-17
I arrived at Styles on the fifth of July.I shall now speak of the sixteenth and seventeenth of that month.For the convenience of the reader, I shall briefly recapitulate the events of these days, as precisely as possible.These matters came to light after a series of tedious cross-examinations.
Two or three days after Evelyn Howard's departure, I received a letter from her, telling me that she had taken up nurseship at a large hospital in Middlingham, fifteen or six miles from here. , is an industrial town.She begged me to let Mrs. Inglethorp know if she expressed any desire to be reconciled with her.
The only fly in the ointment of my quiet days was Mrs. Cavendish's peculiar, to me incomprehensible partiality in her association with Dr. Bauerstein.What exactly she was interested in in this man, I cannot imagine, but she was always inviting him to her house, and often went on long excursions with him.I must admit that I really don't see where his appeal lies.
Monday, July 16th, was a day of chaos.A famous bazaar opened last Saturday.There was to be an evening entertainment connected with the same relief, at which Mrs. Inglethorp would read a war poem.It was at the village hall where we were all busy tidying up and setting up for the evening party.I ate very late for lunch and rested in the garden in the afternoon.I noticed something odd about John's demeanor.He seemed very restless.
After good tea, Mrs. Inglethorp will probably lie down and rest, and she will have to work hard in the evening.And I challenged Mary Cavendish to a tennis singles match.
About a quarter past six, Mrs. Inglethorp called us, saying that we were going to be late, because supper was going to be early that day.In order to be ready in time, we had to retreat hastily.Before dinner was finished, the car was already waiting at the door.
The party was a great success.Mrs. Inglethorp's reading won a round of applause.Some stage modeling was also performed, in which Cynthia also had a role.She didn't come home with us, she was invited to a dinner party, and on this big night, she was with friends who were performing with her.
The next morning, Mrs. Inglethorp had breakfast in bed. She was a bit overtired, but at about half past twelve, she appeared refreshed and insisted on taking Laurence and me to a lunch together. meeting.
"You know it's a kind invitation from Mrs. Rolleston, Lady Tumminster's sister. The Rollestons come here together, one of the oldest families in our country."
Mary made an excuse to have an appointment with Boss, and apologized for not being able to go with her.
We had a very agreeable lunch, and as we drove away Laurence suggested that we should come back via Tumminster, which was only a mile from our road, and visit Cynthia at her pharmacy.Mrs. Inglethorp replied that it was a good idea, but that, as she had some letters to write, she would have to leave us there, and we could come back in a buggy with Cynthia.
We were kept under suspicion by the hospital janitor until Cynthia came out to testify for us.She was wearing a long white coat and looked calm and gentle.She took us into her studio and introduced us to the apothecary she was with, a slightly intimidating man whom Cynthia casually called "Nibs."
"So many bottles!" I exclaimed as my eyes surveyed the small room. "Do you really know what's in all the bottles?"
"It's a strange thing to say," said Cynthia, with a sigh. "Everyone who comes here says that. We really want to give a bounty to the first person who doesn't say 'a lot of bottles,' and I know, the next thing you're going to ask is: 'How many bottles have you poisoned? Are you dead?'”
I smiled, feeling guilty.
"If you knew how easy it is to poison a man by mistake, you wouldn't tell jokes like that. Come on! Let's have tea. We've got all the inside facts about that cupboard. No, Lawrence— —that's the poison cupboard, that big cupboard—that's right."
We drank tea happily.Later, he helped Cynthia wash the tea set.Just as we put away the last teaspoon, there was a knock on the door.
Cynthia and Nibs suddenly put on a serious face, showing serious expressions.
"Come in," said Cynthia, with a decidedly professional tone.
A panicked young nurse appeared with a bottle, and she handed it to Nibs, who motioned for her to hand it to Cynthia, and said something incomprehensible:
"I'm not really here today."
Cynthia took the bottle, and examined it with the strictness of a judge.
"It should have been picked up this morning."
"The head nurse said she was sorry. She forgot."
"The head nurse should come and read the regulations outside the door."
I guessed from the look on the nurse's face that she would not have had the guts to bring this message to that horrible "nun".
"This can't be picked up until tomorrow."
"Do you think it is possible to give it to us tonight?"
"All right," said Cynthia graciously. "We're busy, but if we have time, we'll pretend."
The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia swiftly took a large bottle from the shelf, filled it, and placed it on the table outside the door.
I laughed.
"Discipline must be maintained?"
"Exactly. Go out on our little balcony. You can see all the wards out there."
I followed Cynthia and her friends out onto the balcony, and they showed me the different wards.Lawrence remained in the room.But after a while, Cynthia turned her head and called him, asking him to come out and watch with us.Later, she looked at her watch.
"Is there nothing wrong, Nibs?"
"there is none left."
"Okay. Then we can lock the door and go."
That afternoon, I had a completely different opinion of Lawrence.Although compared with John he was a startlingly incomprehensible man, unlike his brother in almost every respect, very timid and taciturn, yet he had certain agreeable manners which made him I believe that if a person really knows him well, he will definitely like him deeply.I had always thought his treatment of Cynthia rather unnatural, and she was shy about him.But that afternoon, they were both very happy, and they talked very vigorously together, as if they were a pair of children.
As we were driving through the woods, it occurred to me that I wanted to buy some stamps, so we stopped at the post office.
As I was walking out of the post office, I bumped into a small man who was coming in.I hurriedly stepped aside: I apologized to him, but the man suddenly screamed loudly, hugged me tightly, and kissed me passionately.
"My dear Hastings!" he cried. "Really dear Hastings!"
"Poirot!" I cried too.
We went back to the carriage.
"This is a very pleasant meeting of mine, Miss Cynthia. This is my old friend M. Poirot, whom I have not seen for some years."
"Oh, we know M. Poirot," said Cynthia cheerfully. "But it never occurred to me that he was also your friend."
"Yes, indeed," said Poirot solemnly. "I know Miss Cynthia, and it is only by the kindness of Mrs. Inglethorp that I have been here." Seeing me eyeing him curiously, he went on: "Yes, my friend, she was very kind and hospitable. Seven of us compatriots, alas, fugitives from our own country. We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude."
Poirot was a small man of peculiar appearance, not more than five feet four inches in height, but very dignified in his manner.His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he always had it slightly on one side.His upturned beard is hard and straight, like a soldier.His clothes were impossibly neat.I believe that a speck of dust on him would hurt him more than a bullet would wound him.This handsome, playboy-dressed little man (sorry to see him in such a depressed state of mind) has always been one of the most famous members of the Belgian police, and as a detective he has an extraordinary talent , he had successfully solved some of the toughest cases of his time.
He showed me the cottage where he and his fellow Belgians lived, and I promised to visit him as soon as possible.Then, with a dramatic gesture, he raised his hat to Cynthia.So we got in the car and left.
"He's a sweet little man," said Cynthia. "I didn't expect you to know him."
"You're unknowingly hosting a celebrity," I replied.
On the way home I told them about Hercar Poirot's various exploits and achievements.
We returned home with joy.Mrs. Inglethorp was coming out of her bedroom when we entered the hall.She looked agitated, distraught.
"Oh, it's you," she said.
"What's the matter, Aunt Emily?" Cynthia asked.
"No," said Mrs. Inglethorp, alarmingly, "what's going to happen?" and seeing Dorcas, the maid, come into the dining-room, she bade her go to her room with some postage stamps.
"Yes, ma'am." The old maid hesitated, and then added timidly: "Don't you think you'd better go to bed and lie down, madam? You look too tired."
"You may be right, Dorcas--yes--no--not now. I have a few letters left to write before the post-office. You have done as I told you, before I Is there a fire in the room?"
"It was born, ma'am."
"Then I'll go to bed right after dinner."
She walked into her room again, and Cynthia stared at her back.
"My God! What's the matter?" she said to Laurence.
As if he had not heard what she said, he turned and walked out of the room without saying a word.
I suggested to Cynthia a quick game of tennis before dinner, and she agreed, and I ran upstairs to get my racket.
Mrs. Cavendish was coming downstairs.Maybe it's an illusion of mine, but she does look a little weird and restless.
"Going for a walk with Dr. Bauerstein?" I asked, looking as nonchalant as possible.
"No," she replied hastily. "Where is Mrs. Inglethorp?"
"In the boudoir."
She gripped the railing tightly with one hand, and then, as if mustering up her courage to do a daunting task, she hurried past me, down the stairs, through the hall, toward the boudoir, and closed the door behind her. door.
A little later, as I was running to the tennis court, I had to pass under the open window of the boudoir, when I overheard the following fragments of conversation.Mary Cavendish said in the voice of a woman desperately trying to control her feelings:
"Then can't you show me?"
Mrs. Inglethorp answered her:
"Dear Mary, it's nothing."
"Then show me."
"I told you, it's not what you think it is. It has nothing to do with you."
Mary Cavendish replied, in a more mournful voice:
"Of course, I knew you would protect him."
Cynthia was waiting for me, and she greeted me eagerly, saying:
"Well, there's been a big quarrel! I got it all from Dorcas."
"Who is arguing?"
"Aunt Emily and him. I wish she'd finally see through him!"
"Was Docass there?"
"Of course not. Just happened to be at the door. This time it's a big break. I wish I could get the whole situation; know all about it."
I thought of Mrs. Rex's gypsy face, and Evelyn Howard's warning, but I wisely resolved to keep silent while Cynthia made every conceivable assumption, excitedly wishing " Aunt Emily would throw him out and never speak to him again."
I was anxious to see John, but he was nowhere to be found, and it was evident that something serious had happened that afternoon.I tried my best to forget the few words I overheard, but no matter what I did, I couldn't quite get them out of my mind.What was that concern of Mary Cavendish?
Mr. Inglethorp was sitting in the drawing-room when I came down to dinner.The expression on his face was as cold as ever, and I felt again the unpleasant hypocrisy of the man.
Mrs. Inglethorp was last, still looking restless.
There was a tense silence at the table during the meal.Inglethorp was remarkably calm, as usual, paying his wife a little attention here and there, putting a back pad or something on her back, and playing the part of a devoted husband perfectly.Immediately after dinner Mrs. Inglethorp retired to her boudoir.
"Bring me my coffee, Mary," she called. "It's only five minutes to catch the post."
Cynthia and I went to the open window of the living room and sat down.
Mary Kaedish brought us coffee.She seemed a little excited.
"Would you young people turn on the light, or prefer the twilight of the dusk?" she asked. "Cynthia, will you take Mrs. Inglethorp's coffee? I will pour it."
"Don't you bother, Mary," said Inglethorp. "I'll take it to Emily." He poured out a cup of coffee, and carried it carefully out of the room.
Laurence followed, and Mrs. Cavendish sat down beside us.
The three of us sat in silence for a while.It was a pleasant evening, all quiet and hot, and Mrs. Cavendish fanned herself gently with a palm-leaf fan.
"It's just too hot," she cooed under her breath. "It's going to be a thunderstorm."
Alas, the good times don't last long!My beautiful day was suddenly interrupted by a familiar and very obnoxious sound in the hall.
"Dr. Bauerstein!" Cynthia exclaimed. "Strange, why come at this time."
I glanced furtively at Mary Cavendish, but she seemed perfectly composed, and the delicate pallor of her cheeks remained unchanged.
After a while Alfred Inglethorp ushered in the doctor.The latter laughed loudly and insisted that it was inappropriate for him to go to the drawing room in this state.In fact, he really made a fool of himself, and he was covered in mud.
"What are you up to, Doctor?" cried Mary Cavenshti.
"I have to explain," said the doctor. "I really didn't intend to come in, but Mr. Inglethorp insisted on me."
"Oh, Bestan, you're in trouble," said John, coming in from the hall. "Have some coffee and talk to us about what you're up to."
"Thank you, I'll go ahead." He said with a wry smile.He said that he had found a rather rare fern in a difficult place, and that, while he was trying to get it by all means, he, to his shame, had stumbled and fallen into a nearby pond.
"The sun dried my clothes very quickly," he went on, "but I'm afraid I'll lose all face."
At that moment Mrs. Inglethorp called Cynthia from the passage, and the girl ran out.
"Would you please get my briefcase, dear? I'm going to bed."
The door to the passageway opened wide.While Cynthia was picking up the case, I was up and John was beside me.Three persons, therefore, can attest that Mrs. Inglethorp had not yet had her coffee, but was holding it in her hand.
My evening was completely and utterly spoiled by the presence of Dr. Bauerstein.It seems that this person is not leaving.However, he finally stood up, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"I will walk with you to the village," said Mr. Inglethorp. "I've got to see our real estate agent," he said, turning to John again. "There's no need to wait for me. I'll take the gate key."
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