dr gerard walked into the office of messrs castle, the tourist agents, and found sarah king at the

counter.

she looked up.

‘oh, good morning. i’m fixing up my tour to petra. i’ve just heard you are going after all.’

‘yes, i find i can just manage it.’

‘how nice.’

‘shall we be a large party, i wonder?’

‘they say just two other women—and you and me. one car load.’

‘that will be delightful,’ said gerard, with a little bow. then he, in turn, attended to his

business.

presently, holding his mail in his hands, he joined sarah as she stepped out of the office. it was a

crisp, sunny day, with a slight cold tang in the air.

‘what news of our friends, the boyntons?’ asked dr gerard. ‘i have been to bethlehem and

nazareth and other places—a tour of three days.’

slowly and rather unwillingly, sarah narrated her abortive efforts to establish contact.

‘anyhow, i failed,’ she finished. ‘and they’re leaving today.’

‘where are they going?’

‘i’ve no idea.’

she went on vexedly: ‘i feel, you know, that i’ve made rather a fool of myself!’

‘in what way?’

‘interfering in other people’s business.’

gerard shrugged his shoulders.

‘that is a matter of opinion.’

‘you mean whether one should interfere or not?’

‘yes.’

‘do you?’

the frenchman looked amused.

‘you mean, is it my habit to concern myself with other people’s affairs? i will say to you

frankly: no.’

‘then you think i’m wrong to have tried butting in?’

‘no, no, you misunderstand me.’ gerard spoke quickly and energetically. ‘it is, i think, a moot

question. should one, if one sees a wrong being done, attempt to put it right? one’s interference may

do good—but it may do incalculable harm! it is impossible to lay down any ruling on the subject.

some people have a genius for interference—they do it well! some people do it clumsily and had

therefore better leave it alone! then there is, too, the question of age. young people have the courage

of their ideals and convictions—their values are more theoretical than practical. they have not

experienced, as yet, that fact contradicts theory! if you have a belief in yourself and in the rightness

of what you are doing, you can often accomplish things that are well worth while! (incidentally, you

often do a good deal of harm!) on the other hand, the middle-aged person has experience—he has

found that harm as well as, and perhaps more often than, good comes of trying to interfere and so—

very wisely, he refrains! so the result is even—the earnest young do both harm and good—the

prudent middle-aged do neither!’

‘all that isn’t very helpful,’ objected sarah.

‘can one person ever be helpful to another? it is your problem, not mine.’

‘you mean you are not going to do anything about the boyntons?’

‘no. for me, there would be no chance of success.’

‘then there isn’t for me, either?’

‘for you, there might be.’

‘why?’

‘because you have special qualifications. the appeal of your youth and sex.’

‘sex? oh, i see.’

‘one comes always back to sex, does one not? you have failed with the girl. it does not follow

that you would fail with her brother. what you have just told me (what the girl carol told you) shows

very clearly the one menace to mrs boynton’s autocracy. the eldest son, lennox, defied her in the

force of his young manhood. he played truant from home, went to local dances. the desire of a man

for a mate was stronger than the hypnotic spell. but the old woman was quite aware of the power of

sex. (she will have seen something of it in her career.) she dealt with it very cleverly—brought a

pretty but penniless girl into the house—encouraged a marriage. and so acquired yet another slave.’

sarah shook her head.

‘i don’t think young mrs boynton is a slave.’

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 business-like 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 même, i

repeat, you have the same facial 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 eye, 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 the

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 lift 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, endeavouring to pass out of the lift, 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 lift.

hercule poirot stood for a moment looking after him, his eyebrows raised, his head a little on

one side as though he was 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 lift. just as they were about to get into it, ginevra said: ‘just a minute, ray, wait

for me in the lift.’

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 round 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.