Agatha Christie - Appointment with Death

Gerard agreed. "No, perhaps not. I think that because she was a quiet docile young girl, old Mrs. Boynton underestimated her force of will and character. Nadine Boynton was too young and inexperienced at the time to appreciate the true position. She appreciates it now, but it is too late."

"Do you think she has given up hope?"

Dr. Gerard shook his head doubtfully. "If she has plans no one would know about them. There are, you know, certain possibilities where Cope is concerned. Man is a naturally jealous animal-and jealousy is a strong force. Lennox Boynton might still be roused from the inertia in which he is sinking."

"And you think"-Sarah purposely made her tone very businesslike and professional-"that there's a chance I might be able to do something about Raymond?"

"I do."

Sarah sighed. "I suppose I might have tried- Oh, well, it's too late now, anyway. And-and I don't like the idea."

Gerard looked amused. "That is because you are English! The English have a complex about sex. They think it is 'not quite nice.'"

Sarah's indignant response failed to move him. "Yes, yes, I know you are very modern, that you use freely in public the most unpleasant words you can find in the dictionary, that you are professional and entirely uninhibited! Tout de merne, I repeat, you have the same racial characteristics as your mother and your grandmother. You are still the blushing English Miss although you do not blush!"

"I never heard such rubbish!"

Dr. Gerard, a twinkle in his eyes, and quite unperturbed, added: "And it makes you very charming."

This time Sarah was speechless.

Dr. Gerard hastily raised his hat. "I take my leave," he said, "before you have time to begin to say all that you think."

He escaped into the hotel.

Sarah followed him more slowly. There was a good deal of activity going on. Several cars loaded with luggage were in process of departing. Lennox and Nadine Boynton and Mr. Cope were standing by a big saloon car superintending arrangements. A fat dragoman was standing talking to Carol with quite unintelligible fluency.

Sarah passed them and went into the hotel. Mrs. Boynton, wrapped in a thick coat, was sitting in a chair, waiting to depart. Looking at her, a queer revulsion of feeling swept over Sarah.

She had felt that Mrs. Boynton was a sinister figure, an incarnation of evil malignancy. Now, suddenly, she saw the old woman as a pathetic ineffectual figure. To be born with such a lust for power, such a desire for dominion, and to achieve only a petty domestic tyranny! If only her children could see her as Sarah saw her that minute-an object of pity-a stupid, malignant, pathetic, posturing old woman.

On an impulse Sarah went up to her.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Boynton," she said. "I hope you'll have a nice trip."

The old lady looked at her. Malignancy struggled with outrage in those eyes.

"You've wanted to be very rude to me," said Sarah. (Was she crazy, she wondered? What on earth was urging her on to talk like this?) "You've tried to prevent your son and daughter making friends with me. Don't you think, really, that that is all very silly and childish? You like to make yourself out a kind of ogre, but really, you know, you're just pathetic and rather ludicrous. If I were you I'd give up all this silly play-acting. I expect you'll hate me for saying this, but I mean it-and some of it may stick. You know you could have a lot of fun still. It's really much better to be friendly and kind. You could be if you tried."

There was a pause. Mrs. Boynton had frozen into a deadly immobility. At last she passed her tongue over her dry lips, her mouth opened… Still for a moment no words came. "Go on," said Sarah encouragingly. "Say it! It doesn't matter what you say to me. But think over what I've said to you."

The words came at last-in a soft, husky, but penetrating voice. Mrs. Boynton's basilisk eyes looked, not at Sarah, but oddly over her shoulder. She seemed to address, not Sarah, but some familiar spirit.

"I never forget," she said. "Remember that. I've never forgotten anything, not an action, not a name, not a face…" There was nothing in the words themselves, but the venom with which they were spoken made Sarah retreat a step.

And then Mrs. Boynton laughed. It was, definitely, rather a horrible laugh.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "You poor old thing," she said. She turned away. As she went towards the elevator she almost collided with Raymond Boynton. On an impulse she spoke quickly: "Goodbye; I hope you'll have a lovely time. Perhaps we'll meet again some day."

She smiled at him, a warm friendly smile, and passed quickly on.

Raymond stood as though turned to stone. So lost in his own thoughts was he that a small man with big moustaches, endeavoring to pass out of the elevator, had to speak several times.

"Pardon."

At last it penetrated. Raymond stepped aside. "So sorry," he said. "I-I was thinking."

Carol came towards him. "Ray, get Jinny, will you? She went back to her room. We're going to start."

"Right; I'll tell her she's got to come straight away." Raymond walked into the elevator.

Hercule Poirot stood for a moment looking after him, his eyebrows raised, his head a little on one side as though he were listening. Then he nodded his head as though in agreement. Walking through the lounge he took a good look at Carol who had joined her mother. Then he beckoned the head waiter who was passing.

"Pardon, can you tell me the name of those people over there?"

"The name is Boynton, Monsieur; they are Americans."

"Thank you," said Hercule Poirot.

On the third floor Dr. Gerard, going to his room, passed Raymond Boynton and Ginevra walking towards the waiting elevator. Just as they were about to get into it Ginevra said: "Just a minute. Ray; wait for me in the elevator." She ran back, turned a corner, caught up with the walking man. "Please-I must speak to you."

Dr. Gerard looked up in astonishment. The girl came up close to him and caught his arm. "They're taking me away! They may be going to kill me… I don't really belong to them, you know. My name isn't really Boynton…" She hurried on, her words coming fast and tumbling over each other. "I'll trust you with the secret. I'm-I'm Royal, really! I'm the heiress to a throne. That's why there are enemies all around me. They try to poison me, all sorts of things… If you could help me-to get away-" She broke off. Footsteps.

"Jinny-"

Beautiful in her sudden startled gesture, the girl put a finger to her lips, threw Gerard an imploring glance, and ran back. "I'm coming, Ray."

Dr. Gerard walked on with his eyebrows raised. Slowly, he shook his head and frowned.

It was the morning of the start to Petra.

Sarah came down to find a big masterful woman with a rocking-horse nose whom she had already noticed in the hotel, outside the main entrance objecting fiercely to the size of the car.

"A great deal too small! Four passengers? And a dragoman? Then of course we must have a much larger saloon. Please take that car away and return with one of an adequate size."

In vain did the representative of Messrs. Castle's raise his voice in explanation. That was the size of car always provided. It was really a most comfortable car. A larger car was not so suitable for desert travel. The large woman, metaphorically speaking, rolled over him like a large steamroller. Then she turned her attention to Sarah. "Miss King? I am Lady Westholme. I am sure you agree with me that that car is grossly inadequate as to size?"

"Well," said Sarah cautiously, "I agree that a larger one would be more comfortable!"

The young man from Castle's murmured that a larger car would add to the price.

"The price," said Lady Westholme firmly, "is inclusive and I shall certainly refuse to sanction any addition to it. Your prospectus distinctly states 'in comfortable saloon car.' You will keep to the terms of your agreement."