At least I didn't hear anything distinctly. Did you, Miss Pierce?"
"No, I didn't.
I think she'd sent him to fetch something from her younger daughter's tent - or perhaps she was angry with him for going into her daughter's tent - I couldn't say exactly."
"What did he look like?"
Miss Pierce, to whom the question was addressed, shook her head vaguely.
"Really, I couldn't say.
He was too far away. All these Arabs look alike to me."
"He was a man of more than average height," said Lady Westholme, "and wore the usual native headdress. He had on a pair of very torn and patched breeches - really disgraceful they were - and his puttees were wound most untidily - all anyhow!
These men need discipline!"
"You could point the man out among the camp servants?"
"I doubt it.
We didn't see his face - it was too far away.
And, as Miss Pierce says, really, these Arabs all look alike."
"I wonder," said Poirot thoughtfully, "what it was he did to make Mrs. Boynton so angry?"
"They are very trying to the patience sometimes," said Lady Westholme. "One of them took my shoes away, though I had expressly told him - by pantomime too - that I preferred to clean my shoes myself."
"Always I do that too," said Poirot, diverted for a moment from his interrogation. "I take everywhere my little shoe-cleaning outfit. Also, I take a duster."
"So do I." Lady Westholme sounded quite human.
"Because these Arabs they do not remove the dust from one's belongings - "
"Never!
Of course one has to dust one's things three or four times a day - "
"But it is well worth it."
"Yes, indeed.
I cannot stand dirt!"
Lady Westholme looked positively militant. She added with feeling: "The flies - in the bazaars - terrible!"
"Well, well," said Poirot, looking slightly guilty. "We can soon inquire from this man what it was that irritated Mrs. Boynton.
To continue with your story?"
"We strolled along slowly," said Lady Westholme. "And then we met Dr. Gerard.
He was staggering along and looked very ill.
I could see at once he had fever."
"He was shaking," put in Miss Pierce. "Shaking all over."
"I saw at once he had an attack of malaria coming on," said Lady Westholme. "I offered to come back with him and get him some quinine but he said he had his own supply with him."
"Poor man," said Miss Pierce. "You know it always seems so dreadful to me to see a doctor ill.
It seems all wrong, somehow."
"We strolled on," continued Lady Westholme. "And then we sat down on a rock."
Miss Pierce murmured: "Really - so tired after the morning's exertion - the climbing - "
"I never feel fatigue," said Lady Westholme firmly. "But there was no point in going further.
We had a very good view of all the surrounding scenery."
"Were you out of sight of the camp?"
"No, we were sitting facing towards it."
"So romantic," murmured Miss Pierce. "A camp pitched in the middle of a wilderness of rose-red rocks." She sighed and shook her head.
"That camp could be much better run than it is," said Lady Westholme. Her rocking-horse nostrils dilated. "I shall take up the matter with Castle's.
I am not at all sure that the drinking water is boiled as well as filtered. It should be. I shall point that out to them."
Poirot coughed and led the conversation quickly away from the subject of drinking water.
"Did you see any other members of the party?" he inquired.
"Yes.
The elder Mr. Boynton and his wife passed us on their way back to the camp."
"Were they together?"
"No, Mr. Boynton came first.
He looked a little as though he had had a touch of the sun. He was walking as though he were slightly dizzy."
"The back of the neck," said Miss Pierce. "One must protect the back of the neck! I always wear a thick silk handkerchief."