Curtain Read Online Free Page B

finger, it is stained with methylene blue. It is not a good thing for your husband if you take no interest in his stomach.”
    “I daresay I shan't have a husband.”
    “Certainly you will have a husband. What did the bon Dieu create you for?”
    “Many things, I hope,” said Judith.
    “Le mariage first of all.”
    “Very well,” said Judith. “You shall find me a nice husband and I will look after his stomach very carefully.”
    “She laughs at me,” said Poirot. “Someday she will know how wise old men are.”
    There was another tap on the door and Dr Franklin entered. He was a tall, angular young man of thirty-five, with a decided jaw, reddish hair, and bright blue eyes. He was the most ungainly man I had ever known, and was always knocking into things in an absent-minded way.
    He cannoned into the screen round Poirot's chair and half turning his head murmured “I beg your pardon” to it automatically.
    I wanted to laugh, but Judith, I noted, remained quite grave. I suppose she was quite used to that sort of thing.
    “You remember my father,” said Judith.
    Dr Franklin started, shied nervously, screwed up his eyes and peered at me, then stuck out a hand, saying awkwardly:
    “Of course, of course, how are you? I heard you were coming down.”
    He turned to Judith.
    “I say, do you think we need change? If not, we might go on a bit after dinner. If we got a few more of those slides prepared -”
    “No,” said Judith. “I want to talk to my father.”
    “Oh yes. Oh, of course.” Suddenly he smiled, an apologetic boyish smile. “I am sorry - I get so awfully wrapped up in a thing. It's quite unpardonable - makes me so selfish. Do forgive me.”
    The clock struck and Franklin glanced at it hurriedly.
    “Good Lord, is it as late as that? I shall get into trouble. Promised Barbara I'd read to her before dinner.”
    He grinned at us both and hurried out, colliding with the doorpost as he went out.
    “How is Mrs Franklin?” I asked.
    “The same and rather more so,” said Judith.
    “It's very sad her being such an invalid,” I said.
    “It's maddening for a doctor,” said Judith. “Doctors like healthy people.”
    “How hard you young people are!” I exclaimed.
    Judith said coldly:
    “I was just stating a fact.”
    “Nevertheless,” said Poirot, “the good doctor hurries to read to her.”
    “Very stupid,” said Judith. “That nurse of hers can read to her perfectly well if she wants to be read to. Personally I should loathe anyone reading aloud to me.”
    “Well, well, tastes differ,” I said.
    “She's a very stupid woman,” said Judith.
    “Now there, mon enfant,” said Poirot, “I do not agree with you.”
    “She never reads anything but the cheapest kind of novel. She takes no interest in his work. She doesn't keep abreast of current thought. She just talks about her health to everyone who will listen.”
    “I still maintain,” said Poirot, “that she uses her grey cells in ways that you, my child, know nothing about.”
    “She's a very feminine sort of woman,” said Judith. “She coos and purrs. I expect you like 'em like that, Uncle Hercule.”
    “Not at all,” I said. “He likes them large and flamboyant and Russian for choice.”
    “So that is how you give me away, Hastings? Your father, Judith, has always had a penchant for auburn hair. It has landed him in trouble many a time.”
    Judith smiled at us both indulgently. She said:
    “What a funny couple you are.”
    She turned away and I rose.
    “I must get unpacked, and I might have a bath before dinner.”
    Poirot pressed a little bell within reach of his hand and a minute or two later his valet attendant entered. I was surprised to find that the man was a stranger.
    “Why! Where's Georges?”
    Poirot's valet, Georges, had been with him for many years.
    “Georges has returned to his family. His father is ill. I hope he will come back to me sometime. In the meantime,” he smiled at the new valet, “Curtiss looks