away.”
“And I understand that when you came down you found the boy had left his place?”
“Yes. I called him angrily and he reappeared from outside the archway. He had gone out to gossip with the others.”
“That was the only time he left his work?”
“Well, I sent him up once or twice to the roof with pottery.”
Poirot said gravely:
“It is hardly necessary to ask you, Mr. Emmott, whether you saw anyone enter or leave Mrs. Leidner's room during that time?”
Mr. Emmott replied promptly.
“I saw no one at all. Nobody even came out into the courtyard during the two hours I was working.”
“And to the best of your belief it was half-past one when both you and the boy were absent and the courtyard was empty?”
“It couldn't have been far off that time. Of course, I can't say exactly.'”
Poirot turned to Dr. Reilly.
“That agrees with your estimate of the time of death, doctor?”
“It does,” said Dr. Reilly.
Mr. Poirot stroked his great curled moustaches.
“I think we can take it,” he said gravely, “that Mrs. Leidner met her death during that ten minutes.”
Murder in Mesopotamia
Chapter 14
ONE OF US?
There was a little pause - and in it a wave of horror seemed to float round the room.
I think it was at that moment that I first believed Dr. Reilly's theory to be right.
I felt that the murderer was in the room. Sitting with us - listening. One of us...
Perhaps Mrs. Mercado felt it too. For she suddenly gave a short sharp cry.
“I can't help it,” she sobbed. “I - it's so terrible!”
“Courage, Marie,” said her husband.
He looked at us apologetically.
“She is so sensitive. She feels things so much.”
“I - I was so fond of Louise,” sobbed Mrs. Mercado.
I don't know whether something of what I felt showed in my face, but I suddenly found that Mr. Poirot was looking at me, and that a slight smile hovered on his lips.
I gave him a cold glance, and at once he resumed his inquiry.
“Tell me, madame,” he said, “of the way you spent yesterday afternoon?”
“I was washing my hair,” sobbed Mrs. Mercado. “It seems awful not to have known anything about it. I was quite happy and busy.”
“You were in your room?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not leave it?”
“No. Not till I heard the car. Then I came out and I heard what had happened. Oh, it was awful!”
“Did it surprise you?”
Mrs. Mercado stopped crying. Her eyes opened resentfully.
“What do you mean, M. Poirot? Are you suggesting -”
“What should I mean, madame? You have just told us how fond you were of Mrs. Leidner. She might, perhaps, have confided in you.”
“Oh, I see... No - no, dear Louise never told me anything - anything definite, that is. Of course, I could see she was terribly worried and nervous. And there were those strange occurrences - hands tapping on the window and all that.”
“Fancies, I remember you said,” I put in, unable to keep silent.
I was glad to see that she looked momentarily disconcerted.
Once again I was conscious of Mr. Poirot's amused eye glancing in my direction.
He summed up in a business-like way.
“It comes to this, madame, you were washing your hair - you heard nothing and you saw nothing. Is there anything at all you can think of that would be a help to us in any way?”
Mrs. Mercado took no time to think.
“No, indeed there isn't. It's the deepest mystery! But I should say there is no doubt - no doubt at all that the murderer came from outside. Why, it stands to reason.”
Poirot turned to her husband.
“And you, monsieur, what have you to say?”
Mr. Mercado stared nervously. He pulled at his beard in an aimless fashion.
“Must have been. Must have been,” he said. “Yet how could anyone wish to harm her? She was so gentle - so kind -” He shook his head. “Whoever killed her must have been a fiend - yes, a fiend!”
“And you yourself, monsieur, how did you pass yesterday afternoon?”
“I?” he stared vaguely.
“You
“And I understand that when you came down you found the boy had left his place?”
“Yes. I called him angrily and he reappeared from outside the archway. He had gone out to gossip with the others.”
“That was the only time he left his work?”
“Well, I sent him up once or twice to the roof with pottery.”
Poirot said gravely:
“It is hardly necessary to ask you, Mr. Emmott, whether you saw anyone enter or leave Mrs. Leidner's room during that time?”
Mr. Emmott replied promptly.
“I saw no one at all. Nobody even came out into the courtyard during the two hours I was working.”
“And to the best of your belief it was half-past one when both you and the boy were absent and the courtyard was empty?”
“It couldn't have been far off that time. Of course, I can't say exactly.'”
Poirot turned to Dr. Reilly.
“That agrees with your estimate of the time of death, doctor?”
“It does,” said Dr. Reilly.
Mr. Poirot stroked his great curled moustaches.
“I think we can take it,” he said gravely, “that Mrs. Leidner met her death during that ten minutes.”
Murder in Mesopotamia
Chapter 14
ONE OF US?
There was a little pause - and in it a wave of horror seemed to float round the room.
I think it was at that moment that I first believed Dr. Reilly's theory to be right.
I felt that the murderer was in the room. Sitting with us - listening. One of us...
Perhaps Mrs. Mercado felt it too. For she suddenly gave a short sharp cry.
“I can't help it,” she sobbed. “I - it's so terrible!”
“Courage, Marie,” said her husband.
He looked at us apologetically.
“She is so sensitive. She feels things so much.”
“I - I was so fond of Louise,” sobbed Mrs. Mercado.
I don't know whether something of what I felt showed in my face, but I suddenly found that Mr. Poirot was looking at me, and that a slight smile hovered on his lips.
I gave him a cold glance, and at once he resumed his inquiry.
“Tell me, madame,” he said, “of the way you spent yesterday afternoon?”
“I was washing my hair,” sobbed Mrs. Mercado. “It seems awful not to have known anything about it. I was quite happy and busy.”
“You were in your room?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not leave it?”
“No. Not till I heard the car. Then I came out and I heard what had happened. Oh, it was awful!”
“Did it surprise you?”
Mrs. Mercado stopped crying. Her eyes opened resentfully.
“What do you mean, M. Poirot? Are you suggesting -”
“What should I mean, madame? You have just told us how fond you were of Mrs. Leidner. She might, perhaps, have confided in you.”
“Oh, I see... No - no, dear Louise never told me anything - anything definite, that is. Of course, I could see she was terribly worried and nervous. And there were those strange occurrences - hands tapping on the window and all that.”
“Fancies, I remember you said,” I put in, unable to keep silent.
I was glad to see that she looked momentarily disconcerted.
Once again I was conscious of Mr. Poirot's amused eye glancing in my direction.
He summed up in a business-like way.
“It comes to this, madame, you were washing your hair - you heard nothing and you saw nothing. Is there anything at all you can think of that would be a help to us in any way?”
Mrs. Mercado took no time to think.
“No, indeed there isn't. It's the deepest mystery! But I should say there is no doubt - no doubt at all that the murderer came from outside. Why, it stands to reason.”
Poirot turned to her husband.
“And you, monsieur, what have you to say?”
Mr. Mercado stared nervously. He pulled at his beard in an aimless fashion.
“Must have been. Must have been,” he said. “Yet how could anyone wish to harm her? She was so gentle - so kind -” He shook his head. “Whoever killed her must have been a fiend - yes, a fiend!”
“And you yourself, monsieur, how did you pass yesterday afternoon?”
“I?” he stared vaguely.
“You
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