She didnt say anything else, but her face must have expressed what her tongue was powerless to do, for his face lightened up with affection and a momentary ease.
Dear Anne, he said. You are such a wonderful comfort and help to me.
My dear old friend.
He laid his hand on her arm and I saw the red colour creep up in her face as she muttered, gruff as ever: Thats all right.
But I just caught a glimpse of her expression and knew that, for one short moment, Anne Johnson was a perfectly happy woman.
And another idea flashed across my mind.
Perhaps soon, in the natural course of things, turning to his old friend for sympathy, a new and happy state of things might come about.
Not that Im really a matchmaker, and of course it was indecent to think of such a thing before the funeral even.
But after all, it would be a happy solution.
He was very fond of her, and there was no doubt she was absolutely devoted to him and would be perfectly happy devoting the rest of her life to him.
That is, if she could bear to hear Louises perfections sung all the time.
But women can put up with a lot when theyve got what they want.
Dr Leidner then greeted Poirot, asking him if he had made any progress.
Miss Johnson was standing behind Dr Leidner and she looked hard at the box in Poirots hand and shook her head, and I realized that she was pleading with Poirot not to tell him about the mask.
She felt, I was sure, that he had enough to bear for one day.
Poirot fell in with her wish.
These things march slowly, monsieur, he said.
Then, after a few desultory words, he took his leave.
I accompanied him out to his car.
There were half a dozen things I wanted to ask him, but somehow, when he turned and looked at me, I didnt ask anything after all.
Id as soon have asked a surgeon if he thought hed made a good job of an operation.
I just stood meekly waiting for instructions.
Rather to my surprise he said: Take care of yourself, my child.
And then he added: I wonder if it is well for you to remain here?
I must speak to Dr Leidner about leaving, I said.
But I thought Id wait until after the funeral.
He nodded in approval.
In the meantime, he said, do not try to find out too much.
You understand, I do not want you to be clever!
And he added with a smile, It is for you to hold the swabs and for me to do the operation.
Wasnt it funny, his actually saying that?
Then he said quite irrelevantly: An interesting man, that Father Lavigny.
A monk being an archaeologist seems odd to me, I said.
Ah, yes, you are a Protestant.
Me, I am a good Catholic.
I know something of priests and monks.
He frowned, seemed to hesitate, then said: Remember, he is quite clever enough to turn you inside out if he likes.
If he was warning me against gossiping I felt that I didnt need any warning!
It annoyed me, and though I didnt like to ask him any of the things I really wanted to know, I didnt see why I shouldnt at any rate say one thing.
Youll excuse me, M. Poirot, I said.
But its stubbed your toe, not stepped or stebbed.
Ah!
Thank you, ma soeur.
Dont mention it.
But its just as well to get a phrase right.
I will remember, he said quite meekly for him.
And he got in the car and was driven away, and I went slowly back across the courtyard wondering about a lot of things.
About the hypodermic marks on Mr Mercados arm, and what drug it was he took.
And about that horrid yellow smeared mask.
And how odd it was that Poirot and Miss Johnson hadnt heard my cry in the living-room that morning, whereas we had all heard Poirot perfectly well in the dining-room at lunch-time and yet Father Lavignys room and Mrs Leidners were just the same distance from the living-room and the dining-room respectively.