Chapter 12

In another minute the girl had reached them.

Dr Gerard performed the introduction.

‘Miss Boynton, this is M. Hercule Poirot.’

‘Oh.’ She looked at him uncertainly. Her fingers joined together, twined themselves uneasily inand out. The enchanted¹ nymph had come back from the country of enchantment². She was now justan ordinary awkward girl, slightly nervous and ill at ease.

Poirot said: ‘It is a piece of good fortune meeting you here, mademoiselle. I tried to see you inthe hotel.’

‘Did you?’

Her smile was vacant. Her fingers began plucking at the belt of her dress. He said gently:

‘Will you walk with me a little way?’

She moved docilely³ enough, obedient to his whim⁴.

Presently she said, rather unexpectedly, in a queer, hurried voice:

‘You are—you are a detective, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, mademoiselle.’

‘A very well-known detective?’

‘The best detective in the world,’ said Poirot, stating it as a simple truth, no more, no less.

Ginevra Boynton breathed very softly:

‘You have come here to protect me?’

Poirot stroked his moustaches thoughtfully. He said:

‘Are you, then, in danger, mademoiselle?’

‘Yes, yes.’ She looked round with a quick, suspicious glance. ‘I told Dr Gerard about it inJerusalem. He was very clever. He gave no sign at the time. But he followed me—to that terribleplace with the red rocks.’ She shivered. ‘They meant to kill me there. I have to be continually onmy guard.’

Poirot nodded gently and indulgently.

Ginevra Boynton said: ‘He is kind—and good. He is in love with me!’

‘Yes?’

‘Oh, yes. He says my name in his sleep…’ Her voice softened—again a kind of trembling,unearthly beauty hovered⁵ there. ‘I saw him—lying there turning and tossing—and saying myname…I stole away quietly.’ She paused. ‘I thought, perhaps, he had sent for you? I have aterrible lot of enemies, you know. They are all round me. Sometimes they are disguised.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Poirot gently. ‘But you are safe here—with all your family round you.’

She drew herself up proudly.

‘They are not my family! I have nothing to do with them. I cannot tell you who I really am—that is a great secret. It would surprise you if you knew.’

He said gently: ‘Was your mother’s death a great shock to you, mademoiselle?’

Ginevra stamped her feet.

‘I tell you—she wasn’t my mother! My enemies paid her to pretend she was and to see I did notescape!’

‘Where were you on the afternoon of her death?’

‘I was in the tent…It was hot in there, but I didn’t dare come out…They might have got me…’

She gave a little quiver. ‘One of them—looked into my tent. He was disguised but I knew him. Ipretended to be asleep. The Sheikh had sent him. The Sheikh wanted to kidnap me, of course.’

For a few moments Poirot walked in silence, then he said: ‘They are very pretty, these historiesyou recount to yourself?’

She stopped. She glared at him. ‘They’re true. They’re all true.’ Again she stamped an angryfoot.

‘Yes,’ said Poirot, ‘they are certainly ingenious.’

She cried out: ‘They are true—true—’

Then, angrily, she turned from him and ran down the hillside. Poirot stood looking after her. Ina minute or two he heard a voice close behind him.

‘What did you say to her?’

Poirot turned to where Dr Gerard, a little out of breath, stood beside him. Sarah was comingtowards them both, but she came at a more leisurely⁶ pace.

Poirot answered Gerard’s question.

‘I told her,’ he said, ‘that she had imagined to herself some pretty stories.’

The doctor nodded his head thoughtfully.

‘And she was angry? That is a good sign. It shows, you see, that she has not yet completelypassed through the door. She still knows that it is not the truth! I shall cure her.’

‘Ah, you are undertaking⁸ a cure?’

‘Yes. I have discussed the matter with young Mrs Boynton and her husband. Ginevra will cometo Paris and enter one of my clinics. Afterwards she will have her training for the stage.’

‘The stage?’

‘Yes—there is a possibility there for her of great success. And that is what she needs—what shemust have! In many essentials she has the same nature as her mother.’

‘No!’ cried Sarah, revolted.

‘It seems impossible to you, but certain fundamental traits are the same. They were both bornwith a great yearning⁹ for importance; they both demand that their personality shall impress! Thispoor child has been thwarted¹⁰ and suppressed at every turn; she has been given no outlet¹¹ for herfierce ambition, for her love of life, for the expression of her vivid romantic personality.’ He gavea little laugh. ‘Nous allons changer tout¹² ?a!’

Then, with a little bow, he murmured: ‘You will excuse me?’ And he hurried down the hill afterthe girl.

Sarah said: ‘Dr Gerard is tremendously keen on his job.’

‘I perceive his keenness,’ said Poirot.

Sarah said, with a frown: ‘All the same, I can’t bear his comparing her to that horrible oldwoman—although, once—I felt sorry for Mrs Boynton myself.’

‘When was that, mademoiselle?’

‘That time I told you about in Jerusalem. I suddenly felt as though I’d got the whole businesswrong. You know that feeling one has sometimes when just for a short time you see everything theother way round? I got all het-up about it and went and made a fool of myself!’

‘Oh, no—not that!’

Sarah, as always when she remembered her conversation with Mrs Boynton, was blushingacutely.

‘I felt all exalted¹³ as though I had a mission! And then later, when Lady W. fixed¹⁴ a fishy¹⁵ eye onme and said she had seen me talking to Mrs Boynton, I thought she had probably overheard, and Ifelt the most complete ass⁷.’

Poirot said: ‘What exactly was it that old Mrs Boynton said to you? Can you remember theexact words?’

‘I think so. They made rather an impression on me. “I never forget,” that’s what she said.

“Remember that. I’ve never forgotten anything—not an action, not a name, not a face.”’ Sarahshivered. ‘She said it so malevolently—not even looking at me. I feel—I feel as if, even now, I canhear her…’

Poirot said gently: ‘It impressed you very much?’

‘Yes. I’m not easily frightened—but sometimes I dream of her saying just those words and herevil, leering triumphant¹⁶ face. Ugh!’ She gave a quick shiver. Then she turned suddenly to him.

‘M. Poirot, perhaps I ought not to ask, but have you come to a conclusion about this business?

Have you found out anything definite?’

‘Yes.’

He saw her lips tremble as she asked, ‘What?’

‘I have found out to whom Raymond Boynton spoke¹⁷ that night in Jerusalem. It was to his sisterCarol.’

‘Carol—of course!’

Then she went on: ‘Did you tell him—did you ask him—’

It was no use. She could not go on. Poirot looked at her gravely and compassionately¹⁸. He saidquietly:

‘It means—so much to you, mademoiselle?’

‘It means just everything!’ said Sarah. Then she squared her shoulders. ‘But I’ve got to know.’

Poirot said quietly: ‘He told me that it was a hysterical¹⁹ outburst—no more! That he and hissister were worked up. He told me that in daylight such an idea appeared fantastic to them both.’

‘I see…’

Poirot said gently: ‘Miss Sarah, will you not tell me what it is you fear?’

Sarah turned a white despairing face upon him.

‘That afternoon—we were together. And he left me saying—saying he wanted to do somethingnow — while he had the courage. I thought he meant just to — to tell her. But supposing hemeant…’

Her voice died away. She stood rigid²⁰, fighting for control.

 

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