Poirot shook his head thoughtfully.
Of course, Mr Emmott made Mrs Leidner sound quite inhuman.
There was something to be said on the other side too.
There had been something terribly irritating about Mr Reiters attitude.
He jumped when she spoke to him, and did idiotic things like passing her the marmalade again and again when he knew she never ate it.
Id have felt inclined to snap at him a bit myself.
Men dont understand how their mannerisms can get on womens nerves so that you feel you just have to snap.
I thought Id just mention that to Mr Poirot some time.
We had arrived back now and Mr Emmott offered Poirot a wash and took him into his room.
I hurried across the courtyard to mine.
I came out again about the same time they did and we were all making for the dining-room when Father Lavigny appeared in the doorway of his room and invited Poirot in.
Mr Emmott came on round and he and I went into the dining-room together.
Miss Johnson and Mrs Mercado were there already, and after a few minutes Mr Mercado, Mr Reiter and Bill Coleman joined us.
We were just sitting down and Mercado had told the Arab boy to tell Father Lavigny lunch was ready when we were all startled by a faint, muffled cry.
I suppose our nerves werent very good yet, for we all jumped, and Miss Johnson got quite pale and said: What was that?Whats happened?
Mrs Mercado stared at her and said: My dear, what is the matter with you?
Its some noise outside in the fields.
But at that minute Poirot and Father Lavigny came in.
We thought someone was hurt, Miss Johnson said.
A thousand pardons, mademoiselle, cried Poirot.
The fault is mine.
Father Lavigny, he explains to me some tablets, and I take one to the window to see better and, ma foi, not looking where I was going, I steb the toe, and the pain is sharp for the moment and I cry out.
We thought it was another murder, said Mrs Mercado, laughing.
Marie! said her husband.
His tone was reproachful and she flushed and bit her lip.
Miss Johnson hastily turned the conversation to the dig and what objects of interest had turned up that morning.
Conversation all through lunch was sternly archaeological.
I think we all felt it was the safest thing.
After we had had coffee we adjourned to the living-room.
Then the men, with the exception of Father Lavigny, went off to the dig again.
Father Lavigny took Poirot through into the antika-room and I went with them.
I was getting to know the things pretty well by now and I felt a thrill of pride almost as though it were my own property when Father Lavigny took down the gold cup and I heard Poirots exclamation of admiration and pleasure.
How beautiful!
What a work of art!
Father Lavigny agreed eagerly and began to point out its beauties with real enthusiasm and knowledge.
No wax on it today, I said.
Wax?
Poirot stared at me.
Wax? So did Father Lavigny.
I explained my remark.
Ah, je comprends, said Father Lavigny.
Yes, yes, candle grease.
That led direct to the subject of the midnight visitor.
Forgetting my presence they both dropped into French, and I left them together and went back into the living-room.
Mrs Mercado was darning her husbands socks and Miss Johnson was reading a book.
Rather an unusual thing for her.
She usually seemed to have something to work at.
After a while Father Lavigny and Poirot came out, and the former excused himself on the score of work.
Poirot sat down with us.
A most interesting man, he said, and asked how much work there had been for Father Lavigny to do so far.