He asked the question half of Father Lavigny and half of Dr Leidner. Both men considered the question carefully.
‘I hardly think it would be possible,’ said Dr Leidner at last with some reluctance. ‘I don’t see where he could possibly conceal himself, do you, Father Lavigny?’
‘No—no—I don’t.’
Both men seemed reluctant to put the suggestion aside.
Poirot turned to Miss Johnson.
‘And you, mademoiselle? Do you consider such a hypothesis feasible?’
After a moment’s thought Miss Johnson shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t. Where could anyone hide? The bedrooms are all in use and, in any case, are sparsely furnished. The dark-room, the drawing-office and the laboratory were all in use the next day—so were all these rooms. There are no cupboards or corners. Perhaps, if the servants were in collusion—’
‘That is possible, but unlikely,’ said Poirot.
He turned once more to Father Lavigny.
‘There is another point. The other day Nurse Leatheran here noticed you talking to a man outside. She had previously noticed that same man trying to peer in at one of the windows on the outside. It rather looks as though the man were hanging round the place deliberately.’
‘That is possible, of course,’ said Father Lavigny thoughtfully.
‘Did you speak to this man first, or did he speak to you?’
Father Lavigny considered for a moment or two.
‘I believe—yes, I am sure, that he spoke to me.’
‘What did he say?’
Father Lavigny made an effort of memory.
‘He said, I think, something to the effect was this the American expedition house? And then something else about the Americans employing a lot of men on the work. I did not really understand him very well, but I endeavoured to keep up a conversation so as to improve my Arabic. I thought, perhaps, that being a townee he would understand me better than the men on the dig do.’
‘Did you converse about anything else?’
‘As far as I remember, I said Hassanieh was a big town—and we then agreed that Baghdad was bigger —and I think he asked whether I was an Armenian or a Syrian Catholic—something of that kind.’
Poirot nodded.
‘Can you describe him?’
Again Father Lavigny frowned in thought.
‘He was rather a short man,’ he said at last, ‘and squarely built. He had a very noticeable squint and was of fair complexion.’
Mr Poirot turned to me.
‘Does that agree with the way you would describe him?’ he asked.
‘Not exactly,’ I said hesitatingly. ‘I should have said he was tall rather than short, and very dark-complexioned. He seemed to me of a rather slender build. I didn’t notice any squint.’
Mr Poirot gave a despairing shrug of the shoulders.
‘It is always so! If you were of the police how well you would know it! The description of the same man by two different people—never does it agree. Every detail is contradicted.’
‘I’m fairly sure about the squint,’ said Father Lavigny. ‘Nurse Leatheran may be right about the other points. By the way, when I said fair, I only meant fair for an Iraqi. I expect nurse would call that dark.’
‘Very dark,’ I said obstinately. ‘A dirty dark-yellow colour.’
I saw Dr Reilly bite his lips and smile.
Poirot threw up his hands.
‘Passons!’ he said. ‘This stranger hanging about, he may be important—he may not. At any rate he must be found. Let us continue our inquiry.’
He hesitated for a minute, studying the faces turned towards him round the table, then, with a quick nod, he singled out Mr Reiter.
‘Come, my friend,’ he said. ‘Let us have your account of yesterday afternoon.’
Mr Reiter’s pink, plump face flushed scarlet.
‘Me?’ he said.
‘Yes, you. To begin with, your name and your age?’
‘Carl Reiter, twenty-eight.’
‘American—yes?’
‘Yes, I come from Chicago.’
‘This is your first season?’
‘Yes. I’m in charge of the photography.’
‘Ah, yes. And yesterday afternoon, how did you employ yourself?’
‘Well—I was in the dark-room most of the time.’
‘Most of the time—eh?’
‘Yes. I developed some plates first. Afterwards I was fixing up some objects to photograph.’
‘Outside?’
‘Oh no, in the photographic-room.’
‘The dark-room opens out of the photographic-room?’