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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.

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