Chapter 24 Chapter 23 My Illusion

I think the funeral that day was very moving, and so were we.All the Brits living in Harsani have arrived.Even Sela Riley, in a black suit, looked quiet and restrained, hoping she was remorse for the mean things she said. When we got home, I followed Dr. Leidner into the office, asked me to go, he was very polite, he thanked me for my hard work (hard work! I'm pretty much useless), he insisted that I take extra a week's salary. I firmly stated that I could not accept it, because I really felt that I had done nothing and did not deserve to accept it. "Dr. Leidner, indeed, I would rather not have any salary. If you would return my travel expenses, I would be satisfied, because that's all I need."

However, he refused anyway. "You see," I said, "I don't think I deserve your pay, Dr. Leidner. I mean, I—I failed. She—I didn't come here to save her." "Nurse, don't think so," he said sincerely. "After all, I didn't hire you to be a female detective. It never occurred to me that my wife would be in danger. I believed at first that it was all her nervousness. Because of your wild thoughts, you fell into a very strange state of mind. You have tried your best. She likes you and believes in you. I thought she was. In the last few days, because you are here, I feel very happy and safe. You don’t have to blame Own."

There was a tremor in his voice, and I knew what he was thinking, and it was him to blame, for he didn't take Mrs. Leidner's fear seriously. "Dr. Leidner," I said curiously, "have you come to any conclusions about those anonymous letters?" He sighed and said, "I don't know what to believe. Has Mr. Poirot come to a definite conclusion?" "Not yesterday," I said. I had meant to give Dr. Leidner a hint and see how he would react.I was glad to have seen him with Miss Johnson the day before, and to have noticed his devotion and trust in her.As a result, I forgot all about those letters.Even now, I feel a little embarrassed to bring that up.Even if she had written those letters, she had been very sad after Mrs. Leidner's death.I did want to see if that possibility occurred to him, though.

"Anonymous letters are usually written by women." I'll see how he reacts to that. "I suppose so," he said with a sigh, "but, Miss Nurse, you seem to have forgotten that these letters may be genuine, and may actually be written by Frederick Basner." "No, I haven't," I said, "but, for some reason, I don't believe that really says anything." "I do believe it," said he. "It is nonsense to say that someone in the regiment did it. It is just a clever idea of ​​M. Poirot. I believe the truth is simpler, and of course the man must be a madman. He's been around all the time—maybe in some disguise. He managed to sneak in that afternoon when the murder happened. The servants may have been lying—they may have been bribed."

"I think that's possible," I said skeptically. Dr. Leidner continued with a slightly displeased look. "Mr. Poirot suspects that it was written by one of my members. That kind of remark sounds quite reasonable. In fact, I completely believe that none of my pseudo-members has anything to do with this matter. I work with them. I Get to know them!" He stopped suddenly, and then said, "Miss Nurse, did you see that? You said anonymous letters are usually written by women?" "It's not always like that," I said, "but there's a woman's resentment that has to come out that way."

"I suppose you're thinking of Mrs. McGado?" he said.Then, he shook his head. "Even if she's vicious enough to want to hurt Louise, she lacks the necessary understanding of what's going on with her." I thought of the first few letters in that briefcase. If Mrs. Leidner hadn't locked the briefcase, Mrs. McGado, alone in the house, wandering slowly about the house one day might have found the letters.And look, men don't seem to think of such a possible, simple thing. "Apart from her, there is only Miss Johnson," I said, watching his reaction:

"That idea is ridiculous!" The smile on his face as he said that showed he was so sure, he never thought Miss Johnson would write those letters: I hesitated for only a minute--but I didn't say anything, a woman doesn't like to reveal another A woman's secret, and besides, I've seen Miss Johnson in such a moving, genuinely dejected way, that the past is over.Dr. Leidner had had enough of all the other troubles, why add a new one to his discovery of his own disillusionment? Everything was arranged, and I left the house the next day, having arranged, with the help of Dr. Leidner, to spend a day or two temporarily with the matron at the hospital.At the same time, arrange to go back to England: either go through Baghdad, or go through Nisibin by car or train, and go back directly.

Dr. Leidner said earnestly that he would like me to choose a souvenir from his wife's belongings. "Oh, no, really, Dr. Leidner," I said, "I can't take it, you're too kind." He insisted on sending me. "But there is one thing I want to give you. And I believe Louise might have wanted to give you while she was alive." Then he suggested that I choose her tortoiseshell makeup set. "Oh, no, Dr. Leidner! Oh, that's an expensive set. Really, I can't take it." "You know, she has no sisters—no one who needs ginger for these things, no one else to give them."

I can imagine he didn't want those things to get into the hands of the greedy Mrs. McGado, and I don't think he wanted to give them to Miss Johnson either. He went on earnestly: "You think about it. Ah, I remember, here is the key to Louise's jewelry box, maybe you can find something you like better. Also, if you can get her —all her clothes—in a box, and I'm grateful. Maybe Rayleigh can figure out a way to give it to the poor Christian families in Hashani." I was happy to do that for him, so I said I'd be happy to do it. I'll do it right away. Mrs. Leidner had only a few simple clothes, which I soon sorted and packed into two trunks.All her papers were in the briefcase, and the jewelry chest contained a few simple trinkets—a pearl ring, a diamond brooch, a small string of pearls, and one or two plain gold brooches in the shape of a brooch, and There is also a chain of large amber beads.

I certainly wouldn't pick those pearl and diamond brooches, but hesitated between amber beads and tortoise shell cosmetics.At the end of the day, though, I thought why not pick up that makeup set?On Dr. Leidner's part, it was all well-intentioned, and I don't think it meant charity.I should stop pretending to be self-respecting, and accept what he meant, after all, she liked me before she was alive. Well, everything was done: the trunks packed, the jewelry box relocked, and put away for Dr. Leidner, with Mrs. Leidner's father's picture and one or two other odds and ends.

After I finished tidying up, there were no clothes in that room, and it looked empty and very lonely.I don't have much to do—but, somehow, I always don't want to leave that room: it seems there is still something to do—something I want to see—or something I should have known earlier. I am not superstitious.But suddenly a thought crossed my mind that Mrs. Leidner's spirit might still be lingering in this room, wanting to get in touch with me. I remember when we were in the hospital, some of us girls had a Fushi board, and there was really something written on it. Although I never thought of such a thing, I may be psychic. I have already said that a man is sometimes so nervous that he imagines all sorts of things. I quietly wandered around the room, fumbling around.But, of course, there was nothing in the room but furniture.Nothing was slipping away in the back of a drawer, or tucked away in some secret place, and I couldn't have hoped to find anything of the sort. In the end (the kiosk sounds a bit queer, but, as it is said, one's nerves can get crazy at times), I did a somewhat queer thing. I went and lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. I deliberately tried to forget who I was and what I did.I tried to remember what I was like on the afternoon of the murder, and I assumed that I was Mrs. Leidner lying here resting, quietly and without suspicion. It is truly astonishing how wild a man's imaginations can be when he has reached the point of extreme nervousness. I'm a pretty normal, down-to-earth guy - not weird at all.But, I can tell you that after I lay there for about five minutes, I started to feel weird. I didn't try to resist, I deliberately encouraged this weird feeling. I said to myself, "I'm Mrs. Leidner, I'm Mrs. Leidner, and I'm lying here--going to sleep. Soon--soon, the door will open." I went on and on saying this—as if hypnotizing myself. "It's about one-thirty now...it's about that time...that door is going to open...that door is going to open...I want to see who comes in..." My eyes are fixed on the door, and soon the door will open, and I will see it open, and I will see the person who opened it. I must have been a little overwrought that afternoon to imagine solving the mysterious question that way. But, I do believe in that.I felt a chill down my spine, down my legs, and my legs felt numb -- paralyzed. "You will go into a trance, and in that trance you will see..." I repeated monotonously over and over again: "The door is about to open...the door is about to open..." That cold, numb feeling grew stronger. So, slowly, I saw the door just beginning to open. That's scary. The terrifying phenomenon I saw at this moment can be said to be unprecedented. I was petrified - I was so cold, I couldn't move, couldn't move if I wanted to.I was so scared that I couldn't see anything, I couldn't hear anything, and I was very sad. The door that opened slowly. So silent. In a minute I can see— Slowly, slowly the door opened wider and wider. Bill Coleman entered quietly. He must have been startled! I screamed in terror, jumped out of bed, and hurried to the other side of the house. He stood transfixed, his honest red face growing redder in amazement, his mouth opened wide. "Hello, hello, hello!" he said. "What's the matter, Miss Nurse?" I suddenly fell into the real world. "My God, Mr. Coleman, you frighten me." "Sorry," he grinned, but only briefly. Then I saw that he was holding a bouquet of little buttercups in his hand.It was a pretty little wild flower that grew all over the old hill, and Mrs. Leidner was fond of it when she was alive. He was embarrassed and blushed as he spoke. "We can't buy flowers or other things in Harshani. It seems too shabby if there are no flowers on the grave. She always put some flowers in the small vase on the table when she was alive. I just wanted to run over and put a bunch of small flowers. Go in. It's like showing her that we haven't forgotten her—isn't it? Huh? Kind of stupid, I know, but—this—I mean—" I thought it was kind of him to do that, because he was flushed with embarrassment, like the English people do when they get emotional, and I thought it was a kind thought. "Oh, Mr. Coleman, I think that's a very good idea," I said. So I picked up the bottle and went to fill some water, and then we put the flowers in it. Mr. Coleman can have such intentions, so I really appreciate him all the more. He didn't ask me again why I was yelling like that, thank goodness he didn't ask, and if I did, I'd feel so stupid when I explained it. As I adjusted the cuffs and smoothed the smock, I said to myself: You must use your own judgment in the future, man.You are not suitable for this kind of psychic business. I busied myself packing my belongings and spent the rest of the day in oblivion, not letting myself be idle for a moment. Father Lavigne kindly expressed his sadness at my departure.He said that my good humor and judgment were of great help to everyone.Judgment!It's a good thing he didn't know about my stupid behavior in Mrs. Leidner's room. "You did not see M. Poirot today," said he. I told him that Poirot said he would be busy all day today, and would have to send some telegrams. Father Lavigne raised his eyebrows. "Telegram? To America?" "I suppose so, he said, 'Telegraph all over the world!' But, I suppose, that's just a foreign exaggeration." So, I blushed a little, because I suddenly remembered that Lavigne himself was also a foreigner.He didn't seem offended, though, just laughed happily and asked me if I had any news about the squinting man. I said I didn't know because I hadn't heard anything. Father Lavigne asked me again when Mrs. Leidner and I noticed the man, and how he seemed to be creeping around trying to peep in the window. "It seems obvious that he paid special attention to Mrs. Leidner," he mused. "Ever since the murder I've wondered if the man might have been a European, but dressed like an Iraqi?" I thought it was a new idea, so I thought about it carefully.I think that person is of course a local.But, of course, I thought so from the cut of his clothes and his yellow skin. Father Lavigne said he was going to walk outside the house, and to see where Mrs. Leidner and I saw the man standing. "Maybe, he might drop something. That's always the way murderers in detective novels do." "I think killers are more careful in real life," I said. I went to get some socks I had just mended and put them on the living room table so the men could pick their own when they came back.Then, since there wasn't much to do, I went up to the roof. Miss Johnson was standing there, but she didn't hear me coming, she didn't notice me until I came up to her. But I had already seen that something very troublesome was going on. She was standing in the middle of the roof, looking straight ahead; with a look of great anguish on her face, as if she had seen something impossible to believe. That situation startled me, mind you, I had seen her troubled the other night, but today it was very different. "Honey," I said, going up to her quickly, "what's the matter?" She turned her head at my words, and stood looking at me—as if she hadn't seen me. "What's the matter?" I continued to ask. She gave a strange look—as if she wanted to swallow something, but couldn't because her throat was too dry."I just saw something," she said hoarsely. "What do you see? Tell me. What is it? You look tired." She tried to calm down, but she still seemed distressed. Still in that choking voice, she said: "I've seen how a man can come in from the outside—and no one would guess." I looked in the direction she was looking, but couldn't see anything. Mr. Rhett was standing in the doorway of the studio, and Father Lavigne was walking across the courtyard.Other than that, nothing. I turned back in great perplexity, and found her looking at me intently, with the strangest look in her eyes. "Really," I said, "I don't understand what you mean. Could you be more explicit?" However, she shook her head. "Can't tell now, later. We should have seen it long ago, ah, we should have seen it long ago!" "Just tell me—" However, she shook her head. "I have to figure out a reason first." Then she walked past me and staggered downstairs. I didn't go down with her, because she obviously didn't want me to follow her, and I sat on the low wall trying to figure out what happened.However, there is no conclusion.There was only one way into the courtyard here—through the great archway.Just outside the arch, I could see the water boy and his horse, and the Indian cook, talking to him.No one could walk past them and into the yard without them being able to see. I shook my head inexplicably, and walked down again.