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Chapter 28. Journeys End

I have confused memories of the further events of that night.

Poirot seemed deaf to my repeated questions. He was engaged in overwhelming france-was with

reproaches for not having told him of Mrs. Renault's change of sleeping quarters. I caught him by

the shoulder, determined to attract his attention and make myself heard. But you must have known,

I expostulated, you were taken up to see her this afternoon. Poirot dained to attend to me for a

brief moment. She had been wheeled on a sofa into the middle room, her Budoir, he explained.

But Monsia, cried france-was, Madame changed her room almost immediately after the crime.

The associations, they, were too distressing. Then why was I not told, for separated Poirot,

striking the table and working himself into a first-class passion? I demand you. Why was I not told?

You are an old woman, completely imbecile, and Leone and Denise are no better. All of you are

triple idiots. Your stupidity has nearly caused the death of your mistress, but for this courageous

child. He broke off, and darting across the room to where the girl was bending over ministering

to Mrs. Renault, he embraced her with gallic fervor slightly to my annoyance.

I was aroused from my condition of mental fog by a sharp command from Poirot to fetch the doctor

...