He sat just as he had done all along. A tired, worn elderly man.
At last he stirred slightly and looked at Poirot with gentle, tired eyes.
No, he said, there is no proof.
But that does not matter.
You knew that I would not deny truthI have never denied truthI think really I am rather gladIm so tired
Then he said simply: Im sorry about Anne.
That was bad senseless it wasnt me!
And she suffered, too, poor soul.
Yes, that wasnt me.
It was fear
A little smile just hovered on his pain-twisted lips.
You would have made a good archaeologist, M. Poirot.
You have the gift of re-creating the past.
It was all very much as you said.
I loved Louise and I killed herif youd known Louise youd have understoodNo, I think you understand anyway
Chapter 29. LEnvoi
There isnt really any more to say about things.
They got Father Lavigny and the other man just as they were going to board a steamer at Beyrouth.
Sheila Reilly married young Emmott.
I think that will be good for her.
Hes no door-mat hell keep her in her place.
Shed have ridden roughshod over poor Bill Coleman.
I nursed him, by the way, when he had appendicitis a year ago. I got quite fond of him.
His people were sending him out to farm in South Africa.
Ive never been out East again.
Its funny sometimes I wish I could.
I think of the noise the water-wheel made and the women washing, and that queer haughty look that camels give you and I get quite a homesick feeling.
After all, perhaps dirt isnt really so unhealthy as one is brought up to believe!
Dr Reilly usually looks me up when hes in England, and as I said, its he whos got me into this.
Take it or leave it, I said to him.
I know the grammars all wrong and its not properly written or anything like that but there it is.
And he took it.
Made no bones about it.
It will give me a queer feeling if its ever printed.
M. Poirot went back to Syria and about a week later he went home on the Orient Express and got himself mixed up in another murder.
He was clever, I dont deny it, but I shant forgive him in a hurry for pulling my leg the way he did.
Pretending to think I might be mixed up in the crime and not a real hospital nurse at all!
Doctors are like that sometimes.
Will have their joke, some of them will, and never think of your feelings!
Ive thought and thought about Mrs Leidner and what she was really likeSometimes it seems to me she was just a terrible woman and other times I remember how nice she was to me and how soft her voice was and her lovely fair hair and everything and I feel that perhaps, after all, she was more to be pitied than blamed
And I cant help but pity Dr Leidner.
I know he was a murderer twice over, but it doesnt seem to make any difference.
He was so dreadfully fond of her.
Its awful to be fond of anyone like that.
Somehow, the more I get older, and the more I see of people and sadness and illness and everything, the sorrier I get for everyone.
Sometimes, I declare, I dont know whats becoming of the good, strict principles my aunt brought me up with.
A very religious woman she was, and most particular.
There wasnt one of our neighbours whose faults she didnt know backwards and forwards
Oh, dear, its quite true what Dr Reilly said.
How does one stop writing?