Ten

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

Mrs.?Leidner told me her story on a Friday.

On the Saturday morning there was a feeling of slight anticlimax¹ in the air.

Mrs.?Leidner, in particular, was inclined to be very offhand² with me and rather pointedlyavoided any possibility of a tête-à-tête. Well, that didn’t surprise me! I’ve had the same thinghappen to me again and again. Ladies tell their nurses things in a sudden burst of confidence, andthen, afterwards, they feel uncomfortable about it and wish they hadn’t! It’s only human nature.

I was very careful not to hint or remind her in any way of what she had told me. I purposelykept my conversation as matter-of-fact as possible.

Mr.?Coleman had started in to Hassanieh in the morning, driving himself in the lorry with theletters in a knapsack. He also had one or two commissions to do for the members of theexpedition. It was payday for the men, and he would have to go to the bank and bring out themoney in coins of small denominations³. All this was a long business and he did not expect to beback until the afternoon. I rather suspected he might be lunching with Sheila Reilly.

Work on the dig was usually not very busy on the afternoon of payday as at three-thirty thepaying out began.

The little boy, Abdullah, whose business it was to wash pots, was established as usual in thecentre of the courtyard, and again, as usual, kept up his queer nasal chant. Dr.?Leidner andMr.?Emmott were going to put in some work on the pottery⁴ until Mr.?Coleman returned, andMr.?Carey went up to the dig.

Mrs.?Leidner went to her room to rest. I settled her as usual and then went to my own room,taking a book with me as I did not feel sleepy. It was then about a quarter to one, and a couple ofhours passed quite pleasantly. I was reading Death in a Nursing Home—really a most excitingstory—though I don’t think the author knew much about the way nursing homes are run! At anyrate I’ve never known a nursing home like that! I really felt inclined to write to the author and puthim right about a few points.

When I put the book down at last (it was the red-haired parlourmaid and I’d never suspectedher once!) and looked at my watch I was quite surprised to find it was twenty minutes to three!

I got up, straightened my uniform, and came out into the courtyard.

Abdullah was still scrubbing and still singing his depressing chant, and David Emmott wasstanding by him sorting the scrubbed pots, and putting the ones that were broken into boxes toawait mending. I strolled over towards them just as Dr.?Leidner came down the staircase from theroof.

“Not a bad afternoon,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve made a bit of a clearance⁵ up there. Louisewill be pleased. She’s complained lately that there’s not room to walk about. I’ll go and tell her thegood news.”

He went over to his wife’s door, tapped on it and went in.

It must, I suppose, have been about a minute and a half later that he came out again. Ihappened to be looking at the door when he did so. It was like a nightmare. He had gone in abrisk, cheerful man. He came out like a drunken one—reeling a little on his feet, and with a queerdazed expression on his face.

“Nurse—” he called in a queer, hoarse⁶ voice. “Nurse—”

I saw at once something was wrong and I ran across to him. He looked awful—his face wasall grey and twitching⁷, and I saw he might collapse⁸ any minute.

“My wife .?.?.” he said. “My wife .?.?. Oh, my God. .?.?.”

I pushed past him into the room. Then I caught my breath.

Mrs.?Leidner was lying in a dreadful huddled⁹ heap by the bed.

I bent¹⁰ over her. She was quite dead—must have been dead an hour at least. The cause ofdeath was perfectly¹¹ plain—a terrific blow on the front of the head just over the right temple. Shemust have got up from the bed and been struck down where she stood.

I didn’t handle her more than I could help.

I glanced round the room to see if there was anything that might give a clue, but nothingseemed out of place or disturbed. The windows were closed and fastened, and there was no placewhere the murderer could have hidden. Obviously he had been and gone long ago.

I went out, closing the door behind me.

Dr.?Leidner had collapsed¹² completely now. David Emmott was with him and turned a white,inquiring face to me.

In a few low words I told him what had happened.

As I had always suspected, he was a first-class person to rely on in trouble. He was perfectlycalm and self-possessed. Those blue eyes of his opened very wide, but otherwise he gave no signat all.

He considered for a moment and then said: “I suppose we must notify the police as soon aspossible. Bill ought to be back any minute. What shall we do with Leidner?”

“Help me to get him into his room.”

He nodded.

“Better lock this door first, I suppose,” he said.

He turned the key in the lock of Mrs.?Leidner’s door, then drew it out and handed it to me.

“I guess you’d better keep this, nurse. Now then.”

Together we lifted Dr.?Leidner and carried him into his own room and laid him on his bed.

Mr.?Emmott went off in search of brandy. He returned, accompanied by Miss?Johnson.

Her face was drawn¹³ and anxious, but she was calm and capable, and I felt satisfied to leaveDr.?Leidner in her charge.

I hurried out into the courtyard. The station wagon¹⁴ was just coming in through the archway. Ithink it gave us all a shock to see Bill’s pink, cheerful face as he jumped out with his familiar“Hallo, ’llo, ’llo! Here’s the oof!” He went on gaily¹⁵, “No highway robberies—”

He came to a halt suddenly. “I say, is anything up? What’s the matter with you all? You lookas though the cat had killed your canary.”

Mr.?Emmott said shortly: “Mrs.?Leidner’s dead—killed.”

“What?” Bill’s jolly face changed ludicrously. He stared, his eyes goggling¹⁶. “Mother Leidnerdead! You’re pulling my leg.”

“Dead?” It was a sharp cry. I turned to see Mrs.?Mercado behind me. “Did you sayMrs.?Leidner had been killed?”

“Yes,” I said. “Murdered.”

“No!” she gasped¹⁷. “Oh, no! I won’t believe it. Perhaps she’s committed suicide.”

“Suicides don’t hit themselves on the head,” I said dryly. “It’s murder all right,Mrs.?Mercado.”

She sat down suddenly on an upturned packing-case.

She said, “Oh, but this is horrible—horrible. .?.?.”

Naturally it was horrible. We didn’t need her to tell us so! I wondered if perhaps she wasfeeling a bit remorseful¹⁸ for the harsh feelings she had harboured against the dead woman, and allthe spiteful things she had said.

After a minute or two she asked rather breathlessly: “What are you going to do?”

Mr.?Emmott took charge in his quiet way.

“Bill, you’d better get in again to Hassanieh as quick as you can. I don’t know much aboutthe proper procedure. Better get hold of Captain Maitland, he’s in charge of the police here, Ithink. Get Dr.?Reilly first. He’ll know what to do.”

Mr.?Coleman nodded. All the facetiousness¹⁹ was knocked out of him. He just looked youngand frightened. Without a word he jumped into the station wagon and drove off.

Mr.?Emmott said rather uncertainly, “I suppose we ought to have a hunt round.” He raised hisvoice and called: “Ibrahim!”

“Na’am.”

The houseboy came running. Mr.?Emmott spoke²⁰ to him in Arabic. A vigorous colloquypassed between them. The boy seemed to be emphatically denying something.

At last Mr.?Emmott said in a perplexed²¹ voice, “He says there’s not been a soul here thisafternoon. No stranger of any kind. I suppose the fellow must have slipped in without their seeinghim.”

“Of course he did,” said Mrs.?Mercado. “He slunk in when the boys weren’t looking.”

“Yes,” said Mr.?Emmott.

The slight uncertainty²² in his voice made me look at him inquiringly.

He turned and spoke to the little potboy, Abdullah, asking him a question.

The boy replied vehemently²³ at length.

The puzzled frown on Mr.?Emmott’s brow increased.

“I don’t understand it,” he murmured under his breath. “I don’t understand it at all.”

But he didn’t tell me what he didn’t understand.

 

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