Chapter 23 Chapter 22 David Emmott, Father Lavigne, and a Discovery

Jia Lei turned away suddenly and strode away angrily. Poirot sat watching him go away.Presently: He murmured in a low voice: "Yes—I see." Then, without turning his head, he said in a slightly higher voice: "Don't come around this corner just now, lest he turn around and see you, It's all right now. Have you found my handkerchief? Thanks! You're so sweet and thoughtful." About me listening to them, he didn't say anything about it—I couldn't figure out how he knew I was listening to them?He didn't look in the direction where I was standing.Now that he doesn't say anything, I feel quite relieved.I mean, I myself thought there was nothing wrong with doing that.But it's embarrassing if you explain it to him.It doesn't look like he'll ask me to explain, which is fine.

"Do you think he really doesn't like her, M. Poirot?" I said. "Yes—I think so." Then, resolutely, he stood up and started walking to where the workers were working on the top of the ancient hill.I follow behind.At first we saw no one but the Arabs.But finally, we see Mr. Emmott getting down on his stomach and blowing the dust off a newly unearthed skeleton. He saw us with his usual kind and serious smile. "Are you going to look around?" he asked. "I'll be all right in a minute." He sat up, took out his pocket knife, and began to scrape the mud off the bones, pausing occasionally to use a hand blower or blow with his mouth.It's very unhygienic, I think—by mouth blowing, I mean.

"Mr. Emmott, you're getting all kinds of bad bacteria in your mouth." I objected. "Harmful germs are my daily routine, Miss Nurse," he said solemnly. "Bacteria can't do anything to archaeologists—no matter what method they use, they will naturally run away." He scraped a little more dirt off the top of the femur, and then instructed the foreman beside him exactly what was to be done to his liking. "Well," he said, standing up, "that's enough for Rhett's after-lunch photo. She's got some nice things in her grave." He showed us a little brass bowl with a patina, and some brooches, and many gold and blue things, which were her necklace of beads.

The bones and objects were brushed and scraped clean with a knife and neatly arranged for photographs. "Who is she?" asked Poirot. "First millennium. A lady of perhaps considerable importance. Her skull looks odd. I'll have to get Meccado to see it. Looks like it was murdered." "A Mrs. Leidner of more than two thousand years ago?" said Poirot. "Perhaps," said Mr. Mott. Bill Coleman was chiseling something in the wall. David Emmott called out a word to him.I don't understand what it is.Then, he began to show Poirot around. With him explaining, Emmott looked at his watch after our brief week's tour.

"We're off in ten minutes," he said. "Shall we walk back?" "It's exactly what I want," said Poirot. We walked slowly back down the dilapidated path. "I think you will be glad to be at work again," said Poirot. Emmott replied solemnly: "Yes, this is the best way. It's okay to be idle in the house, and it's not easy to find something to say." "Also, always know that one of you is the murderer." Emmott didn't answer.He also expressed no objection.I know now that when Bailuo questioned the servants at first, he suspected that they were not telling the truth.

After a few minutes, he asked calmly: "Mr. Poirot, have you made any progress in your investigation?" Poirot said solemnly: "You will help me to make some progress in my work, will you?" "Ah, of course." Poirot watched him closely. "The center of the case is Mrs. Leidner. I want to know about Mrs. Leidner." David Emmott said slowly, "What do you mean you want to know about Mrs. Leidner?" "I don't mean where she is, what her maiden name was, what color her eyes were. I mean her—herself." "Do you think that has reference value to the case?"

"I absolutely believe in this." Emmott was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Perhaps you're right." "That's where you can help me. You can tell me who she is." "Can I? Sometimes I don't know if I can." "Have you reached any conclusions on this subject?" "It occurred to me in the end that there was." "what?" But Emmott was silent for a moment, and then said: "What does the nurse think of her? It is said that women can quickly judge the character of other women, and a nurse has seen all types of women from extensive experience."

Even if I wanted to talk, Poirot would not give me the chance.He immediately said, "What I want to know is what men think of her. Emmott smiled. "I think most of them are the same," he added after a pause. "She's not young anymore, but I think she's probably the most beautiful woman I've ever met in my life." "That doesn't count as an answer, Mr. Emmott." "That is not too far from my idea, M. Poirot." After two minutes of silence, he continued: "I heard a fairy tale when I was young. It was a Nordic fairy tale about Snow White and Kay. I think Mrs. Leidner is a bit like that queen—always Take Xiao Kai to ride a horse."

"Oh, yes. That's a story by Andersen, isn't it? There's also a girl in it, Gerda, isn't that her name?" "Maybe yes, I don't remember much." "Could you say more, Mr. Emmott?" "I don't even know if I'm right in my assessment of her. She's not an easy person to get to know. She tends to do one horrible thing one day, and the next day she does something really good. But, you're probably right when you say she's the center of the case. That's what she's always trying to do—always be the center of everything. And she likes to play tricks on people—I mean, just Hand her toast and peanut butter and she won't get enough. She wants you to serve her wholeheartedly."

"And what if she is not satisfied??" said Poirot. "Then, she will become very sinister." I saw him draw his lips very resolutely, without moving his mouth. "I suppose, Mr. Emmott, you don't want to make a plain, informal opinion on who murdered her?" "I don't know," said Mr. Emmott. "I really don't know at all. I have an idea that if I were Karl, I might try to murder her. In her eyes, he was A downright bad thing. However, he is also to blame, he is simply teasing you to give him a nail.", "So, Mrs. Leidner—has he hit the nail on the head?" asked Poirot.

Emmott grinned suddenly. "No, just poke him hard twice with the embroidery needle--that's her way. Of course, he's irritating. Just like a crying, cowardly child. But the embroidery needle is a It's a very painful weapon." I stole a glance at Poirot, and I thought I noticed a slight quiver of his lips. "But you don't really believe he's going to kill her?" he asked. "By the way, I don't believe that a man kills a woman just because she keeps teasing him at the dinner table." Poirot shook his head thoughtfully. Of course, Mr. Emmott's words sounded as if Mrs. Leidner was cruel.However, another situation has to be said. There was something about Mr. Ritter that was very annoying, jumping up every time she spoke, and doing silly things.He knew that she didn't eat jam, but he handed it to her over and over again. I once felt that I wanted to scold him. Men's ignorance of their peculiar habits can irritate women so much that they have to scold them. I want to talk too much, and I will mention this to M. Poirot. Now that we have returned, Mr. Emmott invited Ziluo to wash his face, and took him to his room. I hurried across the yard to my room. I came out again about the same time as they did, and as we were walking towards the dining-room Father Lavigne appeared at his door and invited Poirot to enter. Mr. Emmott came up, so I went with him to the dining room.Miss Johnson and Mrs. McGado were already there.A few minutes later, Mr. McGado, Mr. Ritter, and Bill Coleman arrived. No sooner had we sat down than McGado told the Arab servant to inform Father Lavigne that lunch was ready, when we were all startled by an indistinct muffled cry. I think maybe our nerves are not quite stable yet.Because, we all jumped up at the same time.Miss Johnson said blankly, "What's that noise? What's the matter?" Mrs. McGado looked at her intently and said, "My dear, what's the matter with you? It's a voice in the field." But at that moment Poirot and Father Lavigny entered. "Please forgive me, madam," cried Poirot. "It is my fault that Father Lavigne explained to me some of the words on the tablets. I took one of the tablets to the window to see it better. So—I I stepped on my toe and it hurt so much, so I screamed—” "We thought it was another murder," Mrs. McGado said, laughing. "Mary—" cried her husband. There was reproach in his voice, so she blushed and bit her lip. Ms. Johnson quickly changed the topic to the excavation, and told us what interesting things were unearthed this morning. From the beginning to the end of the lunch, everyone's conversation was strictly limited to archaeological issues. I think we all feel safest talking about it. After drinking coffee, everyone went to the living room.Then all the men, except Father Lavigne, went to the excavation site. Father Lavigne took Poirot to the antiquities room, and I went with them. Now that I had gradually become acquainted with the antiquities, I was very proud and excited-almost as if they were all my own property. Father Pooh took down the gold cup.Then I heard Poirot exclaim with great admiration and joy: "How beautiful! What a precious art mouth!" Father Lavigne agreed eagerly, and then proceeded to point out its beauty.His words were filled with genuine enthusiasm and profound knowledge. "No wax on it today," I said. "Wax?" Poirot stared at me intently. I explain what I say. "Oh, I see," said Father Lavigne. "Yes, yes, candle oil." This led to the question of the midnight visitor, who for a moment forgot that I was there, and fell unconsciously into French.So I left them both there and went back to the living room by myself. Mrs. McGado was mending her husband's socks.Miss Johnson is reading a book.This was quite an unusual thing for her, and Myu usually seemed to have a job to do. After a while, Father Lavigny and Poirot came out of the antiquities room. The priest took his leave, saying that he had work to do, and Poirot sat down with us. "A very interesting guy," he said.Then he asked how much Father Lavigne had done so far. Miss Johnson explained to him that there are very few stone flakes unearthed, only a few bricks and tiles with inscriptions and cylinder stone seals.Even so, Father Lavigne also went to the excavation site to work, and quickly learned a lot of Arabic colloquialisms. From this we turn to cylinder lithography.Immediately, therefore, Miss Johnson took from the cupboard a design of a cylinder imprinted on a clay tablet. We bent down to admire those very lively patterns, and only then did I realize that this was probably what she was doing that afternoon when the fate happened. While we were talking, I noticed that Poirot was rolling and rubbing with his fingers, making a little lump of clay. "You use a lot of clay, miss?" he asked. "Quite a lot, we seem to have used a lot of clay this year - though I can't think of how much. But half of our equipment is gone." "Where is it all stored, miss?" "Here—in this cupboard." When she replaced the clay tablets of the cylinders, she pointed out to him the shelves inside which held clumps of clay, fixer, photographic material, and other stationery. "And this—what is it, miss?" He conveniently took out a crumpled and strange thing from behind the equipment. When he unfolded it, we could see that it was a kind of mask, with eyes and a mouth roughly drawn in Indian ink, all covered with clay. "Totally unexpected," cried Miss Johnson. "I've never seen such a thing before. How did I get it here? What is it?" As for how it got here, if you want to hide something, it's the same where you hide it anyway.I don't think the contents of this cupboard will be cleared until the end of the excavation period.As for what it is--that, I think, is hard to say.What we found here was the face Mrs. Leidner described, the ghostly face she had seen outside the window in the semi-darkness of the room—a disembodied face. Mrs. McGado uttered a scream of terror. Miss Johnson's lips turned white, and she murmured: "Then it's not a fantasy. It's a prank—a very vicious one! But who did it?" "By the way," cried Mrs. McGado, "who would do such a wicked thing?" Poirot made no attempt to answer, for he went into the next room very gravely, and returned with an empty carton of horse-dung in his hand, into which he put the crumpled mask, and said: "It must be The police look at this." "It's dreadful!" whispered Miss Johnson. "How dreadful!" "You think everything's hidden—everything's in one place right here?" screamed Mrs. McGado. "You think maybe that weapon—that club that killed her—was still covered in blood? Is it?—oh, I'm afraid—I'm afraid!" Miss Johnson grabbed her by the shoulders. "Be quiet," she said sharply. "Dr. Leidner is here, and we don't need to worry him." Indeed, at that very moment, the car drove into the yard, and Dr. Leidner got out of the car and walked straight across the yard into the living room.He was so tired that there were wrinkles on his face, and he looked twice as old as he was three days ago. He said heavily, "The funeral will be at twelve o'clock tomorrow, and Major Dean will read the funeral prayer." Mrs. Mercado stammered something and slipped out. Dr. Leidner said to Miss Johnson: "Will you come, Anna?" She replied, "Of course, dear, we'll all be there, of course." She didn't say anything else, but her face must have expressed what she couldn't express, because a smile appeared on his face, fully showing affection and temporary ease. "My dear Anna," said he, "my dear old friend, you have been a great comfort and help to me." He put his hands on her shoulders, and I saw a flush come to her face, and at the same time, she murmured, "It's nothing." Her voice was hoarse as usual. But I knew, just by looking at her face, that for a brief moment, Anna Jansen was a very happy woman. And, another thought crossed my mind, that perhaps, soon, as he turned to his old friend for her sympathy, a new and joyful situation might arise, as nature evolves. Not because I'm really a month old, and, naturally, it's inappropriate to think of such things before a funeral.But it's a happy solution after all.He liked her very much, and she undoubtedly loved him, and must have been more than happy to devote the rest of her life to him completely.That is, if she could bear to hear him sing about what a perfect woman Louise was all day long.But women can put up with a lot while getting everything they need. Dr. Leidner then greeted Poirot and asked if he was making any progress. Miss Johnson was standing behind Dr. Leidner, and was looking desperately at the box in Poirot's hand, shaking her head.So, I knew she was begging Ziluo not to tell him about the mask.I believe she felt that he had had enough of a busy day. Poirot obeyed her will. "This sort of thing goes slowly, sir," he said. Then, after a few casual words, he took his leave.I was the one who went out with him and sent him to the car. I have five or six things to ask him, but for some reason, when he turned to look at me, I didn't ask anything, I would rather ask a surgeon whether his operation was successful, and I just stood there obediently. There for orders. To my surprise, he said, "Take care of yourself, boy." Then, he added, "I wonder if it's right for you to stay here?" "I'll have to talk to Dr. Zeudner about my leaving," I said, "but I guess I'll wait until after the funeral." He nodded his approval. "At the same time," he said, "don't ask too many questions, you have to understand that I don't want you to look smart!" Then, with a smile, he added, "It's your job to get the cotton swabs, it's my job to do the surgery." thing." Isn't it funny that he actually said that? Then he said another irrelevant sentence: "That Father Lavigne, is an interesting man." "It seems strange to me that a monk should be engaged in archaeology," I said. "Oh, yes, you're a Christian. I'm a devout Catholic: I know something about priests and monks." He frowned, as if hesitating, and then said: "Remember, he is very smart, and he knows everything about you if necessary." If he's warning me not to gossip, I don't need such a warning! What he said made me very unhappy.Although I don't want to ask him what I want to ask him, but anyway, I don't understand why I can't tell him one thing. "Mr. Poirot, you must forgive me," said I, "but you should say 'stumbling', not 'stepping' or 'stepping.'" "Huh? Thank you, Miss Nurse." "Never mind. But it would be nice to correct a word." "I'll remember," he said--strange for a man of his kind to be so resigned. So he got in the car and left.I walked slowly across the courtyard, thinking of many things and feeling very doubtful. I thought of the hypodermic scar on Mr. McGado's arm and wondered what anesthetic he had been given.And that horrible mask covered in yellow clay.I thought again how strange it was that Poirot and Mademoiselle Johnson had not heard my cry in the living-room that morning.However, at lunchtime we all heard Poirot's cry in the dining room—but Father Lavigne's room and Mrs. Leidner's room were as far from the living room as from the dining room, respectively. Also, I was rather pleased that I had taught Poirot correctly an English word for "physician". Even if he is a great detective, he will find that he does not know everything.