Curtain by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page A

Norton and myself, and I was thankful when the rubber came to an end.
    We both excused ourselves from playing another on the score of the lateness of the hour.
    As we moved away, Norton rather incautiously gave way to his feelings.
    “I say, Hastings, that was pretty ghastly. It gets my back up to see that poor old boy bullied like that. And the meek way he takes it! Poor chap. Not much of the peppery-tongued Indian colonel about him.”
    “Ssh,” I warned, for Norton's voice had been raised and I was afraid old Colonel Luttrell would overhear.
    “No, but it is too bad.”
    I said with feeling:
    “I shall understand it if he ever takes a hatchet to her.”
    Norton shook his head.
    “He won't. The iron's entered into his soul. He'll go on: 'Yes, m'dear, no, m'dear, sorry, m'dear,' pulling at his moustache and bleating meekly until he's put in his coffin. He couldn't assert himself if he tried!”
    I shook my head sadly, for I was afraid Norton was right.
    We paused in the hall and I noticed that the side door to the garden was open and the wind blowing in.
    “Ought we to shut that?” I asked.
    Norton hesitated a minute before saying:
    “Well - er - I don't think everybody's in yet.”
    A sudden suspicion darted through my mind.
    “Who's out?”
    “Your daughter, I think - and - er - Allerton.”
    He tried to make his voice extra casual, but the information coming on top of my conversation with Poirot made me feel suddenly uneasy.
    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 wise judgment 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 washbasin 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 coining 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