Chapter 21 Chapter 20 Miss Johnson, Mrs. McAdoo, and Mr. Wright

Miss Johnson, Mrs. McGado, Mr. Rayleigh I might as well admit, the idea blew my mind.It never occurred to me that Miss Johnson had anything to do with those letters.Mrs. McGado, perhaps.But Miss Johnson was a really cultured woman, very restrained and very understanding. But I remember hearing M. Poirot talk to Dr. Rayleigh that night, and I think that may be the reason. If it was Miss Johnson who wrote those letters, that would say a lot.Mind you, it never occurred to me that Miss Johnson had anything to do with the murder.But I do see that her loathing for Mrs. Leidner makes her irresistible to the temptation that must--oh, to use a vulgar expression--must scare her to call Ma!She may have hoped to scare Mrs Leidner away from the antiquities,

But then Mrs. Leidner got killed.Miss Johnson was terribly tormented by remorse--first of all, that she should not have done that mischief so cruelly.At the same time, perhaps because she had discovered that those letters might be such a good talisman for the real murderer, it was no wonder that she broke down so quickly.I believe she has a good heart.And that might explain why she so eagerly seized on my reassuring words—"It's irretrievable"—to laugh at herself. And her meaningful remark—in her own defense—"She's not a woman in line!" Now the question is: what do I do?

I tossed and turned, and could not sleep for a long time, until at last I resolved to let Mr. Poirot know of the matter at the first opportunity. He came out of town the next day, but I couldn't find an opportunity for what we might call a secret conversation. We were only together for a minute, and before I could calm down and think about how to start, he had already approached and whispered instructions to me. "I, I'm going to talk to Miss Johnson now—the others, perhaps in the living room. Do you have the key to Mrs. Leidner's room?" "and also." "Tres bien (very good). Go into that room, close the door behind you, and let out a cry—not a scream—just a shout. You know what I mean—I want you to make a sound of surprise—surprise — rather than terror. As for how you will be heard, and what kind of excuse you will find, it is entirely up to you—you can say someone stepped on it—or find some other excuse.”

At that moment Miss Johnson came out into the yard, and there was no time for further talk. I knew very well what M. Poirot was going to do.As soon as he and Miss Johnson entered the living room, I went across to Mrs. Leidner's room, opened the door, went in, and closed the door behind me. Standing in an empty room, for no reason, suddenly yelled.I can't say I didn't feel a little silly doing this.Moreover, it is not easy to determine how high the voice should be.I uttered a considerable cry, "Ah!" and then raised it, lowered it. Then, I come out again and prepare my excuse: "" (I think he means "trip").

But I soon discovered that there seemed to be no need for excuses. Poirot and Mademoiselle Johnson were having serious conversations together, and there was clearly no one there to interfere with them. Ah, I thought—that's all sorted out.Either Miss Johnson imagined hearing a cry, or something quite different. I didn't want to go in and bother them, and there was a deck chair on the porch, so I sat there.The sound of their conversation can come to my ears on the wind. "Do you understand? It is a delicate situation," said Mr. Poirot. "Dr. Leidner—apparently respecting his wife—"

"He adored her," said Miss Johnson. "Naturally, he told me his staff liked her very much. As for them? What can they say? Of course they say the same thing. It's polite, it's polite, and it may be true. But it may not be." And I believe, madam, that the answer to this riddle lies in a good knowledge of Mrs. Leidner's character. If I could hear the opinion of every man on the staff of the garden--honest opinion--well, I might Form an idea based on the whole situation. Frankly, that's why I'm here today. I know Dr. Leidner will be in Harshani. That way I can easily talk to each of you in turn and plead You guys help."

"It sounds good to do that," Miss Johnson said, and paused. "Don't tell me English clichés," pleaded Poirot, "don't say 'it's not fair'; don't say 'it's not polite to speak ill of a dead man'—and finally, 'loyalty.'" 'These two words are very harmful to the investigation of the murder. I have repeated these two words because of these two words, and the result is that the truth cannot be revealed." "I'm not particularly loyal to Mrs. Leidner," said Miss Johnson coldly, though there was a stern, bitter note in her words. "Dr. Leidner is different. Still, she is his wife."

"Not at all—not at all. I hear you don't want to speak ill of your colonel's wife. But it's not a matter of praise. It's a question of mysterious sudden death. If I'm to believe it was A martyred angel doesn't make my job any easier." "I would never call her an angel," Miss Johnson said.The bitter tone became distinctly stronger. "Please tell me frankly what you think of Mrs. Leidner—what do you think of her as a woman?" "Well, Mr. Poirot, first of all, I'll warn you that I'm biased. Indeed I am. I—oh, we all like Dr. Leidner. Later, when Mrs. Leidner came, I thought We are jealous of her. She insists that he spend much time with her and take care of her. We all resent this. The love he shows for her displeases us. I am telling the truth, Mr. Poirot. I'm not happy to see it. I hate her being here--yes, I hate her. But, of course, I try not to show it. You know, her presence makes us different from what we were before. .”

"We? You mean us?" "I mean Mr. Garrett and I, you know, we're two of the old school. We don't like the new rules very much. It's only natural, I suppose, but maybe we're a little narrow-minded. But it's true. make us different from what we were before." "what is the difference?" "Ah, it's all different. We used to have a good time. You know, we had a lot of fun, and we joked with each other quite innocently sometimes, which is what people do when they work together. Dr. Leidner was Carefree - almost like a child." "Did Mrs. Leidner's arrival, then, change everything?"

"Well, I don't think it's her fault either. It wasn't bad last year. Believe me, Mr. Poirot, it's not because of anything she's done. She's been good to me—very good. That's who I am." I feel ashamed sometimes. The little things she did and said made me very unhappy. But it wasn't her fault. No one was as kind as she was." "But did the situation change during this period of excavation? Was there a different atmosphere created?" "Ah, it's totally different. Actually, I don't know why. Everything seems to be wrong--not at work--I mean us--meaning our tempers and nerves, feeling nervous Uneasy. Almost the feeling of a storm coming."

"Then you think it was Mrs. Leidner's influence?" "Well, it wasn't like that here before she came," said Miss Johnson coldly. "Oh, I'm a stubborn, complaining person. Old-fashioned, like everything the same, Mr. Poirot, You really don't have to pay attention to me." "What do you think, then, of Mrs. Leidner's conduct and disposition?" Miss Johnson hesitated for a moment, then she said slowly: "Oh, of course, she is moody. There are a lot of violent changes of feeling, being nice to people one day and not talking to people the next. Thoughtful. Still, she's been spoiled all her life. She thinks it's only natural that Dr. Leidner takes care of her. And I don't think she really realizes how brilliant she is to marry a— —What a great man. That pisses me off sometimes! Of course I was grateful when Dr. Leidner brought Nurse Leatheran in. He had to deal with his job and his panic. What a wife. He has had enough!". "What is your own opinion of those letters which she received?" I have to.Sitting in the chair, leaning forward until Miss Johnson saw her profile when she turned to Poirot to answer him. She looked cold, very calm. "I think there's someone in America who has a grudge against her and wants to intimidate her, or hurt her." "Isn't that more serious?" "That's what I thought. She's a very pretty woman, you know, so probably had enemies. I thought those letters were from a woman who hated her. Mrs. Leidner is a neurotic, so put those The letter is taken seriously." "She must think so," said Poirot, "but remember—that last letter was sent." "That--I think that if a man set his heart on it, he will find a way. A woman will go to the trouble of venting her hatred, Mr. Poirot." They do—I thought to myself. "Perhaps you're right, miss. Didn't you say Mrs. Leidner was pretty? By the way, you know Dr. Rayleigh's miss, Sheila?" "Sheila Riley? Of course I do." Poirot said in a tone of chatty confidentiality: "I've heard a rumor (I certainly don't want to ask Dr. Rayleigh) that she's in love with a member of Dr. Leidner's regiment. Did you know that?" Miss Johnson seemed amused. "Ah, young Coleman and David Emmott are both going to attend to her. I believe they are competing to see who will accompany her when there is a big party at the club. The young men are routinely there on Saturday nights. Club. But I don't know about her side. She's the only young girl in the place. She's the belle of the place, of course. And the boys from the Air Force wait on her graciously." "So, do you think there's nothing wrong?" "This—I don't know." Miss Johnson became very cautious. "Yes, she does come here quite a lot. Often at the digs. Mrs. Leidner was joking with David Emmott about it the other day--she said the girl was chasing him. I think she's very cunning in saying that. I don't think he'll be pleased to hear that, yes, Sheila has been here a lot. I saw her ride to the dig that terrible afternoon." She turned to the open door. Window nodded.But neither David Emmott nor Coleman was on duty that afternoon.It was Richard Jarley hosting.Yes, she might have a crush on one of them - but she's such a sassy, ​​unsentimental young girl that we don't know how seriously we should take her affairs.Bill was a nice young man, not as silly as he pretended to be.David Emmott is a lovely man.He has many advantages.He was a deep, calm kind of man. " Then she looked at Poirot questioningly and said: "Has this anything to do with the murder, Mr. Poirot?" Poirot threw up his hands in a very French way. "You make me blush with embarrassment, miss," he said. "You make me appear to be nothing more than a gossip. But I've always been interested in the affairs of young people." "Yes," said Miss Johnson, giggling, "it's good that they are really in love with each other and everything goes well." Poirot uttered a sigh in answer.I don't know if Miss Johnson thought of the love affairs of her own youth.At the same time, I also wondered whether M. Poirot had a wife, or whether he was a mistress, as we are so often told.He looks so funny, I can't imagine him like that. "Sheila Riley has a personality," Miss Johnson said. "She's young, and she's very rude. But, she's just a typical modern girl." "I take your word for it, mademoiselle," said Poirot. He stood up and said, "Are there any other staff members at home?" "Mary McGado is close by. The boys are at the dig site today. I think they're trying to get out of the house. It's inevitable. You gotta think of the dig site—" She came out into the corridor and said to me, smiling, "I think Nurse Leatheran will take you there." "Oh, sure, Miss Johnson," I said. "Then you will be back for lunch, will you not, Monsieur Poirot?" "Happy to accompany you, miss!" Miss Johnson returned to the living room to work on the catalog. "Mrs. McGrady is on the roof," I said. "Would you like to see her first?" "That's all right, I think. Let's go up." As we walked up the stairs, I said, "I did as you told me. Did you hear anything?" "Not at all." "Anyway, it will relieve Miss Johnson of the psychological burden," I said. "She has been annoyed, thinking that if she hears the sound and runs away, she may be saved." Mrs. McGado was sitting on the low wall, her head bowed, lost in thought.She did not hear our voices until Poirot stopped opposite her to say good morning to her. So, startled, she looked up. She looks sick this morning.Her small face looked shriveled and had dark circles under her eyes. "Here I am again," said Poirot, "I have come today for a special purpose." So he went on asking her the same question he had asked Miss Johnson, explaining that he should know what Mrs. Leidner was really up to. Even so, Mrs. McGado was not as honest as Miss Johnson.Suddenly she exaggerated her praises of Mrs. Leidner.Her words, I'm pretty sure, were far from what she really thought. "Dear, dear Louise! It's hard to describe her to someone who doesn't know her. She's an extraordinary person! She's different from other people. I'm sure you feel the same, Miss Nurse, Isn't she? She's a long-term neurotic, full of fantasies, and what we can't bear to do to other people, we can bear if it's done by her. And she's so kind to us all, isn't she Miss Nurse? And she's very humble about her situation - I mean she doesn't know anything about archeology, but she's very eager to learn. She's always asking me about the chemistry of metal things, and helping Miss Jansen with pottery .Ah, we all love her." "Then, ma'am, I've heard that there's quite a tension here—an air of uneasiness—that's not true, as you say?" Mrs. McGado's large, dull eyes were wide open. "Oh, who's going to tell you this? Miss Nurse? Dr. Leidner? I'm sure he wouldn't notice anything, oh, poor thing!" So she looked at me in a completely unfriendly manner. Poirot smiled calmly. "I have my detective, ma'am," he said cheerfully.Then, just for a split second, I saw her eyelids quiver and blink at the same time. "Don't you think," asked Mrs. McGado, with a very gentle air, "that after a thing like that happens, everybody keeps pretending that there are a lot of things that never happened? I know yours." Meaning — like tension, some vibe, 'a feeling that something's going to happen'? I think it's just something people make up after the fact." "You have a good point in what you say, madame," said Poirot. "That's not the case! We're one big, very happy family." "That woman is one of the greatest liars I've ever seen!" I said angrily, as Poirot and I came out of the house on the path leading to the dig-site. "I believe she really hates Mrs. Leidner." of!" "She's arguably not the kind of person we can ask the truth about," agreed Poirot. "What a waste of time talking to her," I said angrily. "That's not quite right--that's not quite right. If a person tells you a lie with her own mouth, sometimes her eyes will tell you the truth. Mrs. McGado, what is she afraid of, little woman?" I saw fear in her eyes. Yes—indeed, she was afraid of one thing. It was amusing." "Mr. Poirot, I have something to tell you." So I told him what had happened the night before, and that I was pretty sure Miss Johnson was the one who wrote the anonymous letter. "So she's lying, too!" I said. "How calmly she answered you this morning about those anonymous letters!" "Yes," said Poirot, "it is very interesting. Because she let one thing go: she knew everything about the anonymous letter. So far, the anonymous affair has not been mentioned in the presence of the staff. Of course, Dr. Leidner probably told her about the letters yesterday. But if he did—well, it's very strange and interesting, isn't it?" My respect for him skyrocketed.What a clever way he tricked her into mentioning the anonymous letter. "Are you going to ask her about those letters?" M. Poirot was a little surprised at what I said. "No, no, really not! It's not wise for a man to boast to others what he knows. I won't reveal it until the last moment. Everything is kept here." He tapped lightly on his forehead son. "Wait until the right moment—I leap—like a leopard—and then, oops! Look at the other party!" I can't help laughing at the thought of Mr. Poirot, a little old man, playing a part like a leopard! We had just arrived at the excavation site, and the first thing we saw was Mr. Rhett.He was busy taking pictures of one wall. I figured the diggers would just dig the walls where the people above told them to dig.Anyway, that's what it looks like.Mr. Jaley explained to me that when you unearth something, you immediately feel the difference.Then point it out to me.But, I can't see what's going on at all.When the workers say "liben" (mud bricks), it's just mud and dirt as far as I can see. When Mr. Rhett had finished taking the pictures, he handed the camera and negatives to his servant, and told him to take them home. Poirot asked him a question or two about exposure, film boxes, and so on.He answered fluently.He seemed to enjoy Poirot's questions about his work. Just as he was about to express his intention to leave us, Bai Rome immediately asked him the same set of words.In fact, it was not a completely fixed set of words, because he changed the words he asked a little each time to suit the person he asked.But I'm not going to write down every question I ask.To a sensible man like Miss Johnson, he would cut to the chase.For the others, he had to beat around the bush a little.But in the end, it's all about changing the soup without changing the medicine. "Yes, yes, I know what you mean," said Mr. Rhett, "but, it's true, I don't know how much I'll help you. I'm new to this part of the year. Leidner and I Madame doesn't talk much. I'm sorry, but I have nothing to tell you." He had a straight, foreign way of speaking, but, of course, he didn't have any accents--except American, I mean. "You can at least tell me whether you like her or not," said Poirot, smiling. Mr. Ritter blushed and stammered: "She's a very charming woman—very charming. And clever. She's got a very bright mind—yes." "Very well! You like her. So she likes you too?" Mr. Ritter blushed even more. "Oh, I—I don't know, because she doesn't pay much attention to me. Once or twice I've had bad luck. When I try to do something for her, we're always unlucky. Because I'm so clumsy, I'm afraid— — made her angry. It wasn't at all intentional — I'd do anything for her if she asked." Poirot felt sorry for him in his panic. "I quite understand, fully understand. Let's move on to another matter. Is the atmosphere in the house happy?" "Excuse me?" "Are you all happy together? Do you usually talk and laugh?" "No—no, not quite that. It's a little—unnatural." He paused, struggling to find the right words, and then said, "You know what? I'm not a very human— - I'm clumsy and I'm shy. Dr. Leidner - he's always been good to me. But - stupid - I can't get over my shyness, I always say the wrong thing, I'm always overturned Can, my luck is always bad." He looked like a clumsy big boy. "It was like that when we were young," said Poirot, smiling. "In the future, when I get older, I will be calm and confident." So, we said goodbye and left. , He said: "That man, Miss Nurse, is a brilliant actor, if not a very simple-minded young man." I didn't answer.Again I was stumped by the strange thought that one of these men was a dangerous, ruthless, and brutal murderer.For some reason, it always seemed impossible to me on this peaceful, beautiful, sunny morning.

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