I sat there quietly waiting.

A sudden knock on the door made me start. It was only Curtiss, however. Poirot was asking for me.

I came to myself with a shock. Poirot! I had never once thought of him all evening. He must have wondered what had become of me. It worried me a little. First of all because I was ashamed of never having been near him, and secondly I did not want him to suspect that anything out of the way had happened. I followed Curtiss across the passage.

"Eh bien," exclaimed Poirot. "So you desert me, hein?" I forced a yawn and an apologetic smile.

"Awfully sorry, old boy," I said. "But to tell the truth, I've got such a blinding headache I can hardly see out of my eyes. It's the thunder in the air, I suppose. I really have been feeling quite muzzy with it - in fact so much so, I entirely forgot I hadn't been in to say good night to you."

As I had hoped, Poirot was immediately solicitous. He offered remedies. He fussed. He accused me of having sat about in the open air in a draught. (On the hottest day of the summer!) I refused aspirin on the grounds that I had already taken some, but I was not able to avoid being given a cup of sweet and wholly disgusting chocolate!

"It nourishes the nerves, you comprehend," Poirot explained. I drank it to avoid argument and then, with Poirot's anxious and affectionate exclamations still ringing in my ears, I bade him good night. I returned to my own room and shut the door ostentatiously. Later, I opened it a crack with the utmost caution. I could not fail now to hear Allerton when he came. But it would be some time yet.

I sat there waiting. I thought of my dead wife. Once, under my breath, I murmured:

"You understand, darling, I'm going to save her." She had left Judith in my care. I was not going to fail her. In the quiet and the stillness I suddenly felt that Cinders was very near to me. I felt almost as though she were in the room.

And still I sat on, grimly waiting.

THIRTEEN

There is something about writing down an anticlimax in cold blood that is somewhat shattering to one's self-esteem.

For the truth of the matter is, you see, that I sat there waiting for Allerton and that I fell asleep!

Not so surprising, really, I suppose. I had slept very badly the night before. I had been out in the air the whole day. I was worn out with worry and the strain of nerving myself for doing what I had decided to do. On top of all that was the heavy thundery weather. Possibly even the fierce effort of concentration I was making helped.

Anyway, it happened. I fell asleep there in my chair, and when I woke, birds were twittering outside, the sun was up and there was I cramped and uncomfortable, slipped down in my chair in my evening dress, with a foul taste in the mouth and a splitting head.