Curtain: Poirot's Last Case by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page A

Mrs Luttrell was a very good player indeed, though a rather unpleasant one to play with. She snatched every conceivable advantage, ignored the rules if her adversary was unaware of them, and enforced them immediately when they served her. She was also extremely adept at a quick sideways glance into her opponent’s hands. In other words, she played to win.
    And I understood soon enough what Poirot had meant by vinegar. At cards her self-restraint failed, and her tongue lashed every mistake her wretched husband made. It was really most uncomfortable for both 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 him, for Norton’s voice had been incautiously 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 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 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