Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

"We've got to get a peacock," said Mrs. Oliver, suddenly and out of nowhere, without opening her eyes, and in a low, angry voice. Three pairs of terrified eyes stared at her, and she spoke again: "Knock it on the head." She opened her eyes that couldn't stand the light with difficulty, struggling to know where she was. The first thing she saw was a completely unfamiliar face.A young man was writing with a notepad, holding a pencil firmly in his hand. "The police," said Mrs. Oliver decisively. "Excuse me, what did you say, ma'am?" "I said you were a policeman," said Mrs. Oliver, "isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." "Assault," said Mrs. Oliver, closing her eyes with satisfaction.When she opened her eyes again, she could see the surrounding environment more clearly.She was lying on the bed, and according to her judgment, it was a kind of hospital bed that was quite high and looked extremely hygienic, the kind of bed that could adjust the height and direction at will.She was not in her home, so she glanced around to confirm her environment. "A hospital, maybe a nursing home," she said. A nun stood authoritatively in the doorway, and a nurse stood beside her bed.She recognized a fourth person. "No one would ever mistake that beard," she said:

"What are you doing here, M. Poirot?" Hercule Poirot took a step towards the bed. "I told you to be careful, ma'am," he said. "Everybody gets lost," said Mrs. Oliver vaguely. "Why, my head hurts." "That goes without saying. Someone hit you on the head, by your presumption." "Yes, the peacock did it." Startled uneasily, the policeman said, "Excuse me, ma'am, do you mean you were beaten by a peacock?" "Of course, I've always had a feeling that something wasn't right—an atmosphere, you know." Mrs. Oliver tried to wave her hand to describe the atmosphere properly, but withdrew it painfully. "Ouch, I think I'd better stop shaking."

"My patient can't get too excited," said the nun in a restrained tone. "Can you tell me where this attack took place?" "How would I know? I'm lost. I come out of a studio, dirty and messy. Another young man hasn't shaved in days, and a leather jacket that's greasy and dirty." "Is this the man who attacked you?" "No, it's another one." "Can you just tell me—" "Didn't I tell you that? I followed him from the dining room—unfortunately, I'm not very good at following people. I haven't practiced enough. It's much more difficult than I imagined."

She focused her eyes on the policeman. "I reckon you're pretty good at it. I mean, you've taken lessons in tracking, haven't you? Well, never mind. Look," she said, picking up the pace suddenly: "It's easy. I'm at the end of the world Square got off the car, I think it should be that place, I think he should stay with those people, or go another way. Unexpectedly, he followed behind me." "Who is this person?" "The peacock," said Mrs. Oliver, "he frightened me, I tell you. It was frightening indeed when things were turned upside down. I mean it turned out he followed you, not you." Followed him--before, of course--and I've been thinking a little bit. Actually, to be honest, I'm scared, and I don't know why. He's very polite, but I'm scared. Anyway, he There he said to me, 'Follow me up to see the studio.' I followed him up a very precarious staircase, sort of like a ladder, and on it was a young man—a very dirty-looking one. young man—he was painting and there was a girl who was acting as a model. She was pretty clean and pretty. We all talked for a while, and they were nice and polite. Then I said I had to go back I got home, and they pointed me the right way back to the King's Road. But they must not have told me the right way. Of course, it may be my own mistake. You know, people show the way Sometimes it happens that the second alley turns left, the third street turns right, etc., sometimes it happens to be reversed, at least I do it myself. Anyway, I came to a slum near the river. At that time, I was not too scared anymore. I think I must have been too unsuspecting when the peacock hit my head."

"I think she must be a little deranged," said the nurse in an explanatory tone. "Who said that, I didn't," said Mrs. Oliver; "I know what I'm talking about." The nurse opened her mouth wide, received a scolding look from the nun, and quickly closed it again. "Velvet and satin, and long, curly hair," said Mrs. Oliver. "A peacock in satin? A real peacock, ma'am? You say you saw one near the Chelsea River?" "A real peacock?" said Mrs. Oliver. "Of course not. It's crazy. What's a peacock doing on the banks of the Chelsea?"

No one seems to be able to answer this question. "He's smug," said Mrs. Oliver, "so I nicknamed him Peacock. Show off, you see. Vanity, I should say, pride in my appearance, and maybe some other sense of self." The proud side." She looked at Poirot and said, "His name is David, and you know who I mean." "You say this young man named David hit you on the head with a club?" "Yes, that's right." Hercule Poirot spoke. "Did you see him?" "I don't see it," said Mrs. Oliver. "I don't know anything. I just think there's a sound behind me, and before I can turn my head to look--it's out! I just feel like a brick has hit me." Come on me. I think I should get some sleep now," she added at last.

She moved her head slightly, with a pained expression on her face, and fell into a coma that seemed very comfortable.