I passed this way on Saturday afternoon en route to the Italians at Fugima.
I went to the dig but there wasnt a single European about and alas! I cannot speak Arabic.
I had not time to come to the house.
This morning I leave Fugima at five two hours here with you and then I catch the convoy on.
Eh bien, and how is the season going?
It was ghastly.
The cheery voice, the matter-of-fact manner, all the pleasant sanity of an everyday world now left far behind.
He just bustled in, knowing nothing and noticing nothing full of cheerful bonhomie.
No wonder Dr Leidner gave an inarticulate gasp and looked in mute appeal at Dr Reilly.
The doctor rose to the occasion.
He took the little man (he was a French archaeologist called Verrier who dug in the Greek islands, I heard later) aside and explained to him what had occurred.
Verrier was horrified.
He himself had been staying at an Italian dig right away from civilization for the last few days and had heard nothing.
He was profuse in condolences and apologies, finally striding over to Dr Leidner and clasping him warmly by both hands.
What a tragedy!
My God, what a tragedy!
I have no words.Mon pauvre collegue.
And shaking his head in one last ineffectual effort to express his feelings, the little man climbed into his car and left us.
As I say, that momentary introduction of comic relief into tragedy seemed really more gruesome than anything else that had happened.
The next thing, said Dr Reilly firmly, is breakfast.
Yes, I insist.
Come, Leidner, you must eat.
Poor Dr Leidner was almost a complete wreck.
He came with us to the dining-room and there a funereal meal was served.
I think the hot coffee and fried eggs did us all good, though no one actually felt they wanted to eat.
Dr Leidner drank some coffee and sat twiddling his bread.
His face was grey, drawn with pain and bewilderment.
After breakfast, Captain Maitland got down to things.
I explained how I had woken up, heard a queer sound and had gone into Miss Johnsons room.
You say there was a glass on the floor?
Yes.
She must have dropped it after drinking.
Was it broken?
No, it had fallen on the rug. (Im afraid the acids ruined the rug, by the way.) I picked the glass up and put it back on the table.
Im glad youve told us that.
There are only two sets of fingerprints on it, and one set is certainly Miss Johnsons own.
The other must be yours.
He was silent for a moment, then he said: Please go on.
I described carefully what Id done and the methods I had tried, looking rather anxiously at Dr Reilly for approval.
He gave it with a nod.
You tried everything that could possibly have done any good, he said.
And though I was pretty sure I had done so, it was a relief to have my belief confirmed.
Did you know exactly what she had taken? Captain Maitland asked.
No but I could see, of course, that it was a corrosive acid.
Captain Maitland asked gravely: Is it your opinion, nurse, that Miss Johnson deliberately administered this stuff to herself?
Oh, no, I exclaimed.
I never thought of such a thing!
I dont know why I was so sure.
Partly, I think, because of M. Poirots hints. His murder is a habit had impressed itself on my mind.
And then one doesnt readily believe that anyones going to commit suicide in such a terribly painful way.