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VI. The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb
Istoodatthedoorofthetentsometimeafterundressing,lookingoutoverthedesert.
“Awonderfulplace,”Isaidaloud,“andawonderfulwork.Icanfeelthefascination.Thisdesertlife,thisprobingintotheheartofavanishedcivilization.Surely,Poirot,you,too,mustfeelthecharm?”
Igotnoanswer,andIturned,alittleannoyed.Myannoyancewasquicklychangedtoconcern.Poirotwaslyingbackacrosstherudecouch,hisfacehorriblyconvulsed.Besidehimwastheemptycup.Irushedtohisside,thendashedoutandacrossthecamptoDr.Ames’stent.
“Dr.Ames!”Icried.“Comeatonce.”
“What’sthematter?”saidthedoctor,appearinginpyjamas.
“Myfriend.He’sill.Dying.Thecamomiletea.Don’tletHassanleavethecamp.”
Likeaflashthedoctorrantoourtent.PoirotwaslyingasIlefthim.
“Extraordinary,”criedAmes.“Lookslikeaseizure—or—whatdidyousayaboutsomethinghedrank?”Hepickeduptheemptycup.
“OnlyIdidnotdrinkit!”saidaplacidvoice.
Weturnedinamazement.Poirotwassittinguponthebed.Hewassmiling.
“No,”hesaidgently.“Ididnotdrinkit.WhilemygoodfriendHastingswasapostrophizingthenight,Itooktheopportunityofpouringit,notdownmythroat,butintoalittlebottle.Thatlittlebottlewillgototheanalyticalchemist.No”—asthedoctormadeasuddenmovement—“asasensibleman,youwillunderstandthatviolencewillbeofnoavail.DuringHastings’briefabsencetofetchyou,Ihavehadtimetoputthebottleinsafekeeping.
