帷幕38

II

I went in to Poirot before going down to breakfast.

He was in bed and I was struck again by how ill he looked. Deep lines ofweariness and fatigue were on his face.

‘How are you, old boy?’

He smiled patiently at me. ‘I exist, my friend. I still exist.’

‘Not in pain?’

‘No – just tired –’ he sighed – ‘very tired.’

I nodded. ‘What about last night? Did Norton tell you what he saw thatday?’

‘He told me, yes.’

‘What was it?’

Poirot looked at me long and thoughtfully before he replied: ‘I am notsure, Hastings, that I had better tell you. You might misunderstand.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Norton,’ said Poirot, ‘tells me he saw two people –’ ‘Judith and Allerton,’

I cried. ‘I thought so at the time.’

‘Eh bien, non. Not Judith and Allerton. Did I not tell you you would mis-understand? You are a man of one idea!’

‘Sorry,’ I said, a little abashed. ‘Tell me.’

‘I will tell you tomorrow. I have much on which I wish to reflect.’

‘Does it – does it help with the case?’

Poirot nodded. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his pillows.

‘The case is ended. Yes, it is ended. There are only some loose ends to betied. Go down to breakfast, my friend. And as you go, send Curtiss to me.’

I did so and went downstairs. I wanted to see Norton. I was deeply curi-ous to know what it was that he had told Poirot.

Subconsciously I was still not happy. The lack of elation in Poirot’s man-ner struck me disagreeably. Why this persistent secrecy? Why that deepinexplicable sadness? What was the truth of all this?

Norton was not at breakfast.

I strolled out into the garden afterwards. The air was fresh and coolafter the storm. I noticed that it had rained heavily. Boyd Carrington wason the lawn. I felt pleased to see him and wished that I could take him intomy confidence. I had wanted to all along. I was very tempted to do so now.

Poirot was really unfit to carry on by himself.

This morning Boyd Carrington looked so vital, so sure of himself, that Ifelt a wave of warmth and reassurance.

‘You’re late up this morning,’ he said.

I nodded. ‘I slept late.’

‘Bit of a thunderstorm last night. Hear it?’

I remembered now that I had been conscious of the rolling of thunderthrough my sleep.

‘I felt a bit under the weather last night,’ said Boyd Carrington. ‘I feel alot better today.’ He stretched his arms out and yawned.

‘Where’s Norton?’ I asked.

‘Don’t think he’s up yet. Lazy devil.’

With common accord we raised our eyes. Where we were standing thewindows of Norton’s room were just above us. I started. For alone in thefa?ade of windows Norton’s were still shuttered.

I said: ‘That’s odd. Do you think they’ve forgotten to call him?’

‘Funny. Hope he’s not ill. Let’s go up and see.’

We went up together. The housemaid, a rather stupid-looking girl, wasin the passage. In answer to a question she replied that Mr Norton hadn’tanswered when she knocked. She’d knocked once or twice but he hadn’tseemed to hear. His door was locked.

A nasty foreboding swept over me. I rapped loudly on the door, callingas I did so: ‘Norton – Norton. Wake up!’

And again with growing uneasiness: ‘Wake up …’

 

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