Judith – and Allerton. Surely Judith, my clever, cool Judith, would not be taken in by a man of that type? Surely she would see through him?
I told myself that repeatedly as I undressed, but the vague uneasiness persisted. I could not sleep and lay tossing from side to side.
As is the way with night worries, everything gets exaggerated. A fresh sense of despair and loss swept over me. If only my dear wife were alive. She on whose judgement I had relied for so many years. She had always been wise and understanding about the children.
Without her I felt miserably inadequate. The responsibility for their safety and happiness was mine. Would I be equal to that task? I was not, Heaven help me, a clever man. I blundered – made mistakes. If Judith was to ruin her chances of happiness, if she were to suffer –
Desperately I switched the light on and sat up.
It was no good going on like this. I must get some sleep. Getting out of bed I walked over to the wash-basin and looked doubtfully at a bottle of aspirin tablets.
No, I needed something stronger than aspirin. I reflected that Poirot, probably, would have some sleeping stuff of some kind. I crossed the passage to his room and stood hesitating a minute outside the door. Rather a shame to wake the old boy up.
As I hesitated I heard a footfall and looked round. Allerton was coming along the corridor towards me. It was dimly lit, and until he came near I could not see his face, and wondered for a minute who it was. Then I saw, and stiffened all over. For the man was smiling to himself, and I disliked that smile very much.
He looked up and raised his eyebrows. ‘Hullo, Hastings, still about?’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I said shortly.
‘Is that all? I’ll soon fix you up. Come with me.’
I followed him into his room, which was the next one to mine. A strange fascination drove me to study this man as closely as I could.
‘You keep late hours yourself,’ I remarked.
‘I’ve never been an early bed-goer. Not when there’s sport abroad. These fine evenings aren’t made to be wasted.’
He laughed – and I disliked the laugh.
I followed him into the bathroom. He opened a little cupboard and took out a bottle of tablets.
‘Here you are. This is the real dope. You’ll sleep like a log – and have pleasant dreams too. Wonderful stuff Slumberyl – that’s the patent name for it.’
The enthusiasm in his voice gave me a slight shock. Was he a drug taker as well? I said doubtfully: ‘It isn’t – dangerous?’
‘It is if you take too much of it. It’s one of the barbiturates – whose toxic dose is very near the effective one.’ He smiled, the corners of his mouth sliding up his face in an unpleasant way.
‘I shouldn’t have thought you could get it without a doctor’s prescription,’ I said.
‘You can’t, old boy. Anyway, quite literally, you can’t. I’ve got a pull in that line.’
I suppose it was foolish of me, but I get these impulses. I said: ‘You knew Etherington, I think?’
At once I knew that it had struck a note of some kind. His eyes grew hard and wary. He said – and his voice had changed – it was light and artificial: ‘Oh yes – I knew Etherington. Poor chap.’ Then, as I did not speak, he went on: ‘Etherington took drugs – of course – but he overdid it. One’s got to know when to stop. He didn’t. Bad business. That wife of his was lucky. If the sympathy of the jury hadn’t been with her, she’d have hanged.’
He passed me over a couple of the tablets. Then he said casually: ‘Did you know Etherington as well?’
I answered with the truth. ‘No.’
He seemed for a moment at a loss how to proceed. Then he turned it off with a light laugh.
‘Funny chap. Not exactly a Sunday school character but he was good company sometimes.’
I thanked him for the tablets and went back to my room.
As I lay down again and turned off the lights I wondered if I had been foolish.
For it came to me very strongly that Allerton was almost certainly X. And I had let him see that I suspected the fact.
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