Dumb Witness (Hercule Poirot 16) - Page 106

“That is the second time I have missed hearing what Mrs. Tanios has to say. What would you say, Hastings? Is there a fate in it?”

“Third time lucky,” I said consolingly.

Poirot shook his head doubtfully.

“Will there be a third time? I wonder. Come, let us hear what the husband has to say.”

Dr. Tanios was sitting in an armchair reading one of Poirot’s books on psychology. He sprang up and greeted us.

“You must forgive this intrusion. I hope you don’t mind my forcing my way in and waiting for you like this.”

“Du tout, du tout. Pray sit down. Permit me to offer you a glass of sherry.”

“Thank you. As a matter of fact I have an excuse. M. Poirot, I am worried, terribly worried, about my wife.”

“About your wife? I’m very sorry. What’s the matter?”

Tanios said:

“You have seen her perhaps lately?”

It seemed quite a natural question, but the quick look that accompanied it was not so natural.

Poirot replied in the most matter-of-fact manner.

“No, not since I saw her at the hotel with you yesterday.”

“Ah—I thought perhaps she might have called upon you.”

Poirot was busy pouring out three glasses of sherry.

He said in a slightly abstracted voice:

“No. Was there any—reason for her calling on me?”

“No, no.” Dr. Tanios accepted his sherry. “Thank you. Thank you very much. No, there was no exact reason, but to be frank I am very much concerned about my wife’s state of health.”

“Ah, she is not strong?”

“Her bodily health,” said Tanios slowly, “is good. I wish I could say the same for her mind.”

“Ah?”

“I fear, M. Poirot, that she is on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown.”

“My dear Dr. Tanios, I am extremely sorry to hear this.”

“This condition has been growing for some time. During the last two months her manner towards me has completely changed. She is nervous, easily startled, and she has the oddest fancies—actually they are more than fancies—they are delusions!”

“Really?”

“Yes. She is suffering from what is commonly known as persecution mania—a fairly well-known condition.”

Poirot made a sympathetic noise with his tongue.

“You can understand my anxiety!”

“Naturally. Naturally. But what I do not quite understand is why you have come to me. How can I help you?”

Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery
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