Her voice came quick and uneven. "Excuse me, Madam, but I'm worried about the young lady. About Miss Marshall. I took her some tea just now and I couldn't get her to wake and she looks so - so queer somehow."
Christine looked round helplessly.
Poirot was at her side in a moment. His hand under her elbow he said quietly:
"We will go up and see."
They hurried up the stairs and along the passage to Linda's room.
One glance at her was enough to tell them both that something was very wrong.
She had an odd colour and her breathing was hardly perceptible.
Poirot's hand went to her pulse.
At the same time he noticed an envelope stuck up against the lamp on the bedside table.
It was addressed to himself.
Captain Marshall came quickly into the room. He said:
"What's this about Linda? What's the matter with her?"
A small frightened sob came from Christine Redfern. Hercule Poirot turned from the bed.
He said to Marshall: "Get a doctor - as quick as you possibly can.
But I'm afraid - very much afraid - it may be too late."
He took the letter with his name on it and ripped open the envelope.
Inside were a few lines of writing in Linda's prim schoolgirl hand.
"I think this is the best way out.
Ask Father to try and forgive me.
I killed Arlena.
I thought I should be glad - but I'm not.
I am very sorry for everything..."
They were assembled in the lounge - Marshall, the Redferns, Rosamund Darnley and Hercule Poirot. They sat there silent - waiting...
The door opened and Dr Neasdon came in.
He said curdy: "I've done all I can.
She may pull through - but I'm bound to tell you that there's not much hope." He paused.
Marshall, his face stiff, his eyes a cold frosty blue, asked: "How did she get hold of the stuff?"
Neasdon opened the door again and beckoned.
The chambermaid came into the room. She had been crying.
Neasdon said: "Just tell us again what you saw?"
Sniffing, the girl said:
"I never thought - I never thought for a minute there was anything wrong - though the young lady did seem rather strange about it."
A slight gesture of impatience from the doctor started her off again.
"She was in the other lady's room. Mrs Redfern's. Your room, Madam.
Over at the washstand and she took up a little bottle.
She did give a bit of a jump when I came in and I thought it was queer her taking things from your room, but then of course it might be something she'd lent you. She just said:
'Oh, this is what I'm looking for -' and went out."
Christine said almost in a whisper:
"My sleeping tablets."
The doctor said brusquely:
"How did she know about them?"
Christine said: "I gave her one.
The night after it happened.
She told me she couldn't sleep. She - I remember her saying - 'Will one be enough?' - and I said,
'Oh, yes, they were very strong' - that I'd been cautioned never to take more than two at most."
Neasdon nodded. "She made pretty sure," he said. "Took six of them."
Christine sobbed again.
"Oh, dear, I feel it's my fault.
I should have kept them locked up."
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "It might have been wiser, Mrs Redfern."