Chapter 22 Chapter 21 Mr. McAdoo, Richard Kelly

"They originally worked in two places separately, I know." Poirot stopped and said. Mr. Rhett took the picture in the outer part of the big dig.Not far from us was another group of people walking around with baskets on their backs. "That's what they call the Pit," I explained to him, "and they don't find much there, except for some rubbish shards. But Dr. Leidner says it's interesting. So I thought Must be fun." "Let's go over there." We walked there together, walking very slowly, because it was the time when the sun was scorching.

Mr. McGado was there to direct.We see him down below, talking to the foreman.The foreman was an old man with a tweed coat over his long striped cloth robe. It was a bit difficult to go down to them, because there was only one very narrow path, or a ladder, so to speak.The workers who carried the baskets were constantly going up and down.They're always blind as bats, and never think to make way for you; As I followed Poirot down, he turned suddenly and said: "Does Monsieur Mercado write with his right hand or with his left?" Ask this now!This is really a unique problem. I thought for a moment, and then said firmly: "The right hand."

Poirot would not explain in detail.He just kept going.I follow behind. There was a smile on his elongated, sad face. M. Poirot pretends to be interested in archaeology, but I don't believe he is really interested.However, Mr. McGado reacted immediately. He explained to us that they had dug twelve mold holes where the old house stood. "We must now be digging into the fourth millennium," he said eagerly. Mr. McGado pointed out the area with the skeletons (how his hands were shaking! wondered if he might have had malaria).And then he talked about how the nature of the pottery would change, and about the graves--and they dug a mold pit that was full of babies' graves--poor little babies--and about the somewhat curved terrain there And orientation, it seems to be able to show the location of the skeleton.

Then, all of a sudden, just as we were stooping to pick up some flint knives or something that was in a corner with some clay pots, he jumped up with a wild cry. He turned sharply to find Poirot and I watching him in astonishment. He patted his left arm lightly with his hand. "Something pricked me - like a hot needle prick." This event immediately set Poirot on fire. "Quick, Miss Nurse, let's take a look, Nurse Leatheran!" I rushed to the front.He took Mr. McGado by the arm and rolled his khaki shirtsleeves up to his shoulders with great skill. "There," said Mr. McGado, pointing.

There was a tiny hole about three inches below the shoulder, and blood was oozing from it. "Strange," said Poirot.He peered into the rolled-up sleeves. "I can't see anything. An ant bite, maybe?" "It would be better to rub some iodine on it," I said. I always carry a small tube of iodine with me, so I quickly took it out and rubbed it for him.But when I did this, I was a little distracted, because a very different matter had attracted my attention.Mr. McGado's arm has a series of small holes from the wrist to the wrist.I knew exactly what kind of scar it was - it was a hypodermic needle scar.

Mr. McGado rolled down his rolled-up sleeves and resumed his explanation.M. Poirot listened to his explanation, but did not turn the conversation to the Leidners.In fact he didn't ask Mr. McGado at all. Soon we said goodbye to Mr. McGado and climbed the ladder again. "That's neat, don't you think?" asked my companion. "Clean?" I asked. Mr. Poirot took something out of the lapel of his coat, and examined it carefully.I saw it was a long sewing needle.One end of the needle was dripped with wax, and it became a big needle.The result amazed me. "Monsieur Poirot," cried I, "what have you done?

"I'm the stinging bug—yes. I do it neatly. Don't you think so? You don't see me do that." That is true.I didn't see him do that.And I'm sure Mr. McGado didn't think so either.He must have been as fast as lightning. "But, M. Poirot, why?" He answered me with another question. "Nurse, did you notice anything?" I nodded slowly. "Hypodermic scar," I said. "So, now we know one thing about Mr. Mercado," said Poirot. "I suspected—but, I don't know. It is always necessary to know the truth." Well, what means to proceed with, you don't care!I thought so, but didn't say it.

Poirot suddenly patted his pocket with his hand. "Oops, I dropped my handkerchief down there. I used it to hide needles." "I'll get it back for you," I said, and hurried back. You know, by this time I had the feeling that Poirot and I were physicians and nurses in charge of a patient.At least, more like an operation.He is the surgeon.Maybe I shouldn't say this.But, strangely enough, I started to have a lot of fun. I remember just after my nursing training, I went to a private house to take care of a patient.It was discovered that an operation must be performed immediately.But the patient's husband has a weird personality and has a bad impression of the nursing home.He would never send his wife to a nursing home.He said that the operation must be performed at home.

So, of course, it was a great opportunity for me when there was no one else to watch it again.I am in charge of preparing everything.Of course, I was nervous—everything the doctor needed, imaginable, was ready.However, even so, I am still afraid of forgetting to prepare something.The case of physicians is difficult to say.Sometimes they will ask you to prepare everything.But everything is fine.I had everything he asked for, and when the operation was over, he told me that my service was first-rate—and that's something most physicians find troublesome.That GP (General Practitioner) is also very good.All this is done with my help.

The patient also recovered, so everyone was happy. Ah, I feel somewhat the same now. From a point of view, M. Poirot reminds me of the surgeon.He is also a short man.An ugly little old man with a monkey face, but he was a good surgeon.He knew instinctively where to start.I've seen quite a few surgeons, and I know how different they are. Gradually I developed confidence in M. Poirot.I get the sense that he also knows exactly what to do.I gradually felt that it was my responsibility to help him—as we often say, with a pair of tweezers and cotton swabs at hand, he always has what he needs.Running to find him a handkerchief felt as natural to me as picking up a towel thrown on the floor by a doctor.That's why.

When I came back from finding the handkerchief, I couldn't see him at first.But, finally, I saw him.He was sitting in a place not far from the excavation site, talking to Mr. Garret.Mr. Jaley's workmen stood nearby, holding what looked like a large pole with degrees engraved on it.But, at that moment, he said something to the worker, and the man took it away.It seems that he has already used it up, so he doesn't use it for the time being. Now I want to make the following point clear: you know, I'm not quite sure what M. Poirot really wants me to do, or doesn't want me to do.I mean he probably just sent me back on purpose to find that handkerchief.He was trying to drive me away. This is like a surgery again.You have to give the doctor exactly what he needs, not what he doesn't need, I mean, if you don't hand him arterial forceps at the right time, but, when he needs it, you give it too late.Thank goodness I'm familiar with what to do in the operating room.I'm unlikely to make a mistake there.However, doing this kind of thing now, I became the most inexperienced little trainee.Therefore, I had to be extremely careful not to make mistakes. Of course, it did not occur to me that Mr. Poirot did not want me to hear what he had to say to Mr. Garrett.But he probably thought he might be able to make it easier for Mr. Garrett to talk if I wasn't there. Now I don't want anyone to get the idea that I'm one of those women who likes to eavesdrop on private conversations.I don't do anything like that.Not for a minute.No matter how much you want to hear it, you won't! I mean, if it was a private conversation, I would never listen to it.But in fact I did hear it. In my opinion, I am in a privileged position.When a patient wakes up from an anesthesia, you will hear a lot of what he has to say.The patient doesn't want you to hear it--and usually doesn't know you hear it--but, in fact, you can hear it anyway, and I just think Mr. Garrett is the patient.He was ignorant of the matter, so he was not affected in any way.If you think I'm curious, well, I'll admit, I am.I don't want to miss a single thing I can hear. I mentioned all this to illustrate the fact that I turned around and walked behind the huge pile of garbage until I was within a foot of their conversation and hid in the corner of the pile.If someone says it's a mean thing, I'm sorry, I don't think so.Nothing should be concealed from the nurse who has the responsibility of caring for the sick.But, of course, only the doctor has the right to say what should be done. Of course, I don't know what method M. Poirot used to conduct his inquiry, but, when I got there, it could be said that he was shooting in the bull's-eye. "No one knows Dr. Leidner's love for his wife better than I," he was saying, "but we often know a man better from his enemies than from his friends." many." "Are you implying that their faults are more important than their merits?" Mr. Jaley said.His tone was cold and ironic. "Undoubtedly—murder is like that. It seems very strange. So far as I know, no one has ever been victimized by being too perfect in character. But there is no doubt that a person of perfect character is would be enviable." "You're looking for me to help you, and I'm afraid you've got the wrong person," said Mr. Garley. "I'll tell you the truth. Leidner and I don't get on particularly well. I'm not saying we're enemies. But we don't. Absolutely a friend. Perhaps Mrs. Leidner was very jealous because of my old acquaintance with her husband. Although I admired her very much on my part, and thought she was a very attractive woman. But because of her interest in Ray Dana has a lot of influence, and I'm a little bit indignant: so we're very polite to each other, but not close." "Excellent explanation," said Poirot. I can see their heads clearly.I saw Mr. Garrett turn his head suddenly, as if something in Mr. Poirot's detached tone displeased him. Mr. Poirot went on: "Is Dr. Leidner troubled by your incompatibility with his wife?" Garley hesitated for a moment and said, "Honestly—I can't be sure. He didn't mention anything. I'm always hoping he didn't notice that. He's stuck in his work all the time, you know." "So, according to you, is it really the case that you really don't like Mrs. Leidner?" Mr. Jaley shrugged. "If she hadn't been Leidner's wife, I might have liked her a lot." He laughed, as if he thought his own words were ridiculous. Poirot was arranging a small pile of pottery shards.Then he said in a dreamy, nonchalant tone: "I spoke to Miss Johnson this morning. She admitted that she had a prejudice against Mrs. Leidner and didn't like her very much. But she added hastily that she always I find Mrs. Leidner charming." "I think she's quite right," said Jaley. "So, I believed her and I talked to Mrs. McGado. She told me at length that she liked Mrs. Leidner and admired her." Jaley didn't respond to this.Poirot waited a minute or two before continuing. "That—I didn't believe it, so I came to talk to you. What you told me—well, I didn't believe it." Jia Lei suddenly became stubborn.I could hear him angry - pent-up anger in his voice. "No matter what you believe or don't believe, I really can't help you. I've told you the truth, believe it or not." Poirot was not angry.Instead, his words sounded particularly gentle and humble. "Whatever I believe; or don't believe, is it my fault: I've got sensitive ears, you know. And—there's always going to be some legends going—rumors go around. We Will listen—maybe, we'll know something! Yes, there are some legends." Jaley jumped up.I could see clearly, the veins in his temples twitching.He looks great like that!So thin, and so brown--and that wonderful jaw, strong and square.No wonder women are obsessed with him. "What legend?" he asked aggressively. Poirot squinted at him. "Perhaps you can guess, the usual legend--about you and Mrs. Leidner." "How sinister is the human heart!" "Isn't it? People are like dogs. No matter how deep you bury an unpleasant secret, the dogs will always dig it up." "Then do you believe in these legends?" "I would like to believe—the truth," said Poirot gravely. "I doubt if you would believe it if you heard the truth." Jia Lei laughed unceremoniously. "You'll know if you try me," said Poirot, noting his reaction. "Well, I'll try it! I can tell you the truth! I hate Louise Leidner—that's the truth for you! I hate her like hell!"