Norton fumbled with the glasses. He said in a curious hesitating voice:
"I - I - made a mistake - it's flown away - at least, as a matter of fact, it on bird."
His face was white and troubled. He avoided looking at us. He seemed both bewildered and distressed.
Even now I cannot think I was altogether unreasonable in jumping to the conclusion that he had seen through those glasses of his something that he was determined to prevent my seeing.
Whatever it was that he had seen, he was so thoroughly taken aback by it that it was noticeable to both of us.
His glasses had been trained on a distant belt of woodland. What had he seen there?
I said peremptorily:
"Let me look."
I snatched at the glasses. I remember he tried to defend them from me, but he did it clumsily. I seized them roughly.
Norton said weakly:
"It wasn't really - I mean, the bird's gone... I wish -"
My hands shaking a little, I adjusted the glasses to my eyes. They were powerful glasses. I trained them as nearly as I could on the spot where I thought Norton had been looking.
But I saw nothing - nothing but a gleam of white (a girl's white dress?) disappearing into the trees.
I lowered the glasses. Without a word I handed them back to Norton. He did not meet my eyes. He was looking worried and perplexed.
We walked back to the house in silence and I remember that Norton was very silent all the way.
III
Mrs Franklin and Boyd Carrington came in shortly after we got back to the house. He had taken her in his car to Tadminster because she wanted to do some shopping.
She had done it, I gather, pretty thoroughly. Lots of parcels came out of the car and she ated, talking and laughing and with quite a colour in her cheeks.
She sent Boyd Carrington up with a particularly fragile purchase and I gallantly received a further consignment.
Her talk ore nervous than usual.
"Frightfully hot, isn't it? I think there's going to be a storm. This weather must break soon. They say, you know, there's quite a water shortage. The worst drought there's been for years."
She went on, turning to Elizabeth Cole:
"What have you all been doing with yourselves? Where's John? He said he'd got a headache and was going to walk it off. Very unlike him to have a headache. I think, you know, he's worried about his experiments. They aren't going right or something. I wish he'd talk more about things."
She paused and then addressed Norton:
"You're very silent, Mr Norton. Is anything the matter? You look - you look scared. You haven't seen the ghost of old Mrs Whoever-it-was?"
Norton started.
"No, no. I haven't seen any ghosts. I - I was just thinking of something."
It was at that moment that Curtiss came through the doorway wheeling Poirot in his invalid chair.
He stopped with it in the hall, preparatory to taking his master out and carrying him up the stairs.
Poirot, his eyes suddenly alert, looked from one to the other of us.
He said sharply:
"What is it? Is anything the matter?"
None of us answered for a minute, then Barbara Franklin said with a little artificial laugh:
"No, of course not. What should be the matter? It's just - perhaps thunder coming? I - oh, dear - I'm terribly tired. Bring those things up, will you, Captain Hastings. Thank you so much."
I followed her up the stairs and along the east wing. Her room was the end one on that side.
Mrs Franklin opened the door. I was behind her, my arms full of parcels.
She stopped abruptly in the doorway. By the window Boyd Carrington was having his palm examined by Nurse Craven.
He looked up and laughed a little sheepishly.
"Hullo, I'm having my fortune told. Nurse is no end of a hand reader."
"Really? I had no idea of that." Barbara Franklin's voice was sharp. I had an idea that she was annoyed with Nurse Craven. "Please take these things, Nurse, will you? And you might mix me an egg flip. I feel very tired. A hot water bottle, too, please. I'll get to bed as soon as possible."
"Certainly, Mrs Franklin."
Nurse Craven moved forward. She showed no signs of anything but professional concern.
Mrs Franklin said:
"Please go, Bill, I'm terribly tired."
Boyd Carrington looked very concerned.
"Oh, I say, Babs, has it been too much for you? I am sorry. What a thoughtless fool I am. I shouldn't have let you overtire yourself."
Mrs Franklin gave him her angelic martyr's smile.
"I didn't want to say anything. I do hate being tiresome."
We two men went out of the room somewhat abashed and left the two women together.
Boyd Carrington said contritely:
