Appointment with Death by Agatha Christie

“No, no. Shouldn't have worried about them if
     they had been! Not, mind you, that I don't believe it's all true. It's just one of those
     things I don't understand - like one of my Bedouin fellows who can get out of a car in the
     middle of a flat desert, feel the ground with his hand and tell you to within a mile or
     two where you are. It isn't magic, but it looks like it. No, Dr. Gerard's story is quite
     straightforward. Just plain facts. I think, if you're interested - you are interested?”
    “Yes, yes.”
    “Good man. Then I think I'll just phone over and get Gerard along here and you can hear
     his story for yourself.”
    When the Colonel had dispatched an orderly on this quest, Poirot said: “Of what does this
     family consist?”
    “Name's Boynton. There are two sons, one of 'em married. His wife's a nice-looking girl -
     the quiet sensible kind. And there are two daughters. Both of 'em quite good-looking in
     totally different styles. Younger one a bit nervy - but that may be just shock.”
    “Boynton,” said Poirot. His eyebrows rose. “That is curious - very curious.”
    Carbury cocked an inquiring eye at him. But as Poirot said nothing more, he himself went
     on: “Seems pretty obvious mother was a pest! Had to be waited on hand and foot and kept
     the whole lot of them dancing attendance. And she held the purse strings. None of them had
     a penny of their own.”
    “Aha! All very interesting. Is it known how she left her money?”
    “I did just slip that question in - casual like, you know. It gets divided equally among
     the lot of them.”
    Poirot nodded his head. Then he asked: “You are of opinion that they are all in it?”
    “Don't know. That's where the difficulty's going to lie. Whether it was a concerted
     effort, or whether it was one bright member's idea. I don't know. Maybe the whole thing's
     a mare's nest! What it comes to is this: I'd like to have your professional opinion. Ah,
     here comes Gerard.”

Appointment with Death
    2
    The Frenchman came in with a quick yet unhurried tread. As he shook hands with Colonel
     Carbury, he shot a keen interested glance at Poirot.
    Carbury said: “This is M. Hercule Poirot. Staying with me. Been talking to him about this
     business down at Petra.”
    “Ah, yes?” Gerard's quick eyes looked Poirot up and down. “You are interested?”
    Hercule Poirot threw up his hands. “Alas! One is always incurably interested in one's own
     subject.”
    “True,” said Gerard.
    “Have a drink?” said Carbury.
    He poured out a whisky and soda and placed it by Gerard's elbow. He held up the decanter
     inquiringly but Poirot shook his head. Colonel Carbury set it down again and drew his
     chair a little nearer. “Well,” he said. “Where are we?”
    “I gather,” said Poirot to Gerard, “that Colonel Carbury is not satisfied.”
    Gerard made an expressive gesture. “And that,” he said, “is my fault! And I may be wrong.
     Remember that, Colonel Carbury; I may be entirely wrong.”
    Carbury gave a grunt. “Give Poirot the facts,” he said.
    Dr. Gerard began with a brief recapitulation of the events preceding the journey to Petra.
     He gave a short sketch of the various members of the Boynton family and described the
     condition of emotional strain under which they were laboring.
    Poirot listened with interest.
    Then Gerard proceeded to the actual events of their first day at Petra, describing how he
     had returned to the camp. “I was in for a bad bout of malaria - cerebral type,” he
     explained. “For that I proposed to treat myself by an intravenous injection of quinine.
     That is the usual method.”
    Poirot nodded his comprehension.
    “The fever was on me badly. I fairly staggered into my tent. I could not at first find my
     case of drugs, someone had moved it from where I had originally placed it. Then, when I
     had found that I could not find my hypodermic syringe, I hunted for it for some time, then