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Chapter 17

IDinner was a reasonably cheerful meal. Mrs Luttrell was down again andin her best vein of artificial Irish gaiety. Franklin was more animated andcheerful than I had yet seen him. Nurse Craven I saw for the first time inmufti instead of her nurse’s uniform. She was certainly a very attractiveyoung woman now that she had cast off her professional reserve.

After dinner Mrs Luttrell suggested bridge, but in the end some roundgames were started. About half past nine Norton declared his intention ofgoing up to see Poirot.

‘Good idea,’ said Boyd Carrington. ‘Sorry he’s been under the weatherlately. I’ll come up too.’

I had to act quickly.

‘Look here,’ I said, ‘do you mind – it really tires him too much to talk tomore than one person at a time.’

Norton took the cue and said quickly: ‘I promised to lend him a book onbirds.’

Boyd Carrington said: ‘All right. You coming back again, Hastings?’

‘Yes.’

I went up with Norton. Poirot was waiting. After a word or two I camedown again. We began playing rummy.

Boyd Carrington, I think, resented the carefree atmosphere of Styles to-night. He thought, perhaps, that it was too soon after the tragedy foreveryone to forget. He was absent-minded, forgot frequently what he wasdoing, and at last excused himself from further play.

He went to the window and opened it. The sound of thunder could beheard in the distance. There was a storm about although it had not yetreached us. He closed the window again and came back. He stood for aminute or two watching us play. Then he went out of the room.

I went up to bed at a quarter to eleven. I did not go in to Poirot. Hemight be asleep. Moreover I felt a reluctance to think any more aboutStyles and its problems. I wanted to sleep – to sleep and forget.

I was just dropping off when a sound wakened me. I thought it mighthave been a tap on my door. I called ‘Come in’, but as there was no re-sponse, I switched the light on and, getting up, looked out into the cor-ridor.

I saw Norton just coming from the bathroom and going into his ownroom. He wore a checked dressing-gown of particularly hideous colouringand his hair was sticking up on end as usual. He went into his room andshut the door, and immediately afterwards I heard him turn the key in thelock.

Overhead there was a low rumbling of thunder. The storm was comingnearer.

I went back to bed with a slightly uneasy feeling induced by the soundof that turning key.

It suggested, very faintly, sinister possibilities. Did Norton usually lockhis door at night, I wondered? Had Poirot warned him to do so? I re-membered with sudden uneasiness how Poirot’s door key had mysteri-ously disappeared.

I lay in bed and my uneasiness grew whilst the storm overhead added tomy feeling of nerviness. I got up at last and locked my own door. Then Iwent back to bed and slept.

 

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