Murder in Mesopotamia by Agatha Christie Page B

what we don't want them to say. Besides, I know the habits of your household fairly well. Just outside the gate is a kind of social club. Whenever I've been over here in the afternoon I've always found most of your staff there. It's the natural place for them to be.”
    “All the same I think you are assuming too much. Why shouldn't this man - this devil - have got in earlier and concealed himself somewhere?”
    “I agree that that is not actually impossible,” said Dr. Reilly coolly. “Let us assume that a stranger did somehow gain admission unseen. He would have to remain concealed until the right moment (and he certainly couldn't have done so in Mrs. Leidner's room, there is no cover there) and take the risk of being seen entering the room and leaving it - with Emmott and the boy in the courtyard most of the time.”
    “The boy. I'd forgotten the boy,” said Dr. Leidner. “A sharp little chap. But surely, Maitland, the boy must have seen the murderer go into my wife's room?”
    “We've elucidated that. The boy was washing pots the whole afternoon with one exception. Somewhere around half-past one - Emmott can't put it closer than that - he went up to the roof and was with you for ten minutes - that's right, isn't it?”
    “Yes. I couldn't have told you the exact time but it must have been about that.”
    “Very good. Well, during that ten minutes, the boy, seizing his chance to be idle, strolled out and joined the others outside the gate for a chat. When Emmott came down he found the boy absent and called him angrily, asking him what he meant by leaving his work. As far as I can see, your wife must have been murdered during that ten minutes.”
    With a groan, Dr. Leidner sat down and hid his face in his hands.
    Dr. Reilly took up the tale, his voice quiet and matter-of-fact.
    “The time fits in with my evidence,” he said. “She'd been dead about three hours when I examined her. The only question is - who did it?”
    There was a silence. Dr. Leidner sat up in his chair and passed a hand over his forehead.
    “I admit the force of your reasoning, Reilly,” he said quietly. “It certainly seems as though it were what people call 'an inside job.' But I feel convinced that somewhere or other there is a mistake. It's plausible but there must be a flaw in it. To begin with, you are assuming that an amazing coincidence has occurred.”
    “Odd that you should use that word,” said Dr. Reilly.
    Without paying any attention Dr. Leidner went on:
    “My wife receives threatening letters. She has reason to fear a certain person. Then she is - killed. And you ask me to believe that she is killed - not by that person - but by some one entirely different! I say that that is ridiculous.”
    “It seems so - yes,” said Dr. Reilly meditatively.
    He looked at Captain Maitland. “Coincidence - eh? What do you say, Maitland? Are you in favour of the idea? Shall we put it up to Leidner?”
    Captain Maitland gave a nod.
    “Go ahead,” he said shortly.
    “Have you ever heard of a man called Hercule Poirot, Leidner?”
    Dr. Leidner stared at him, puzzled.
    “I think I have heard the name, yes,” he said vaguely. “I once heard a Mr. Van Aldin speak of him in very high terms. He is a private detective, is he not?”
    “That's the man.”
    “But surely he lives in London, so how will that help us?”
    “He lives in London, true,” said Dr. Reilly, “but this is where the coincidence comes in. He is now, not in London, but in Syria, and he will actually pass through Hassanieh on his way to Baghdad tomorrow!”
    “Who told you this?”
    “Jean Berat, the French consul. He dined with us last night and was talking about him. It seems he has been disentangling some military scandal in Syria. He's coming through here to visit Baghdad, and afterwards returning through Syria to London. How's that for a coincidence?”
    Dr. Leidner hesitated a moment and looked apologetically at Captain Maitland.
    “What do you think, Captain