The Singing Butler

The Singing Butler
We sat down as her vague gesture directed.There was a silence.LadyClarke seemed to have lapsed into a dream. Presently with a slight effort she roused herself. "It was about Car，wasn't it?About Car's death.Oh，yes." She signed，but still in a faraway manner，shaking her head. "We never thought it would be that way round......I was so sure I shouldbe the first to go......"She mused a minute or two. "Car was very strong-wonderful for his age.He was never ill.He wasnearly sixty-but he seemed more like fifty......Yes，very strong......" She relapsed again into her dream.Poirot，who was well acquainted withthe effects of certain drugs and of how they give their taker the impressionof endless time，said nothing.
The Singing Butler
Lady Clarke said suddenly: "Yes-it was good of you to come.I told Franklin.He said he wouldn'tforget to tell you.I hope Franklin isn't going to be foolish......he's soeasily taken in，in spite of having knocked about the world so much.Men arelike that......They remain boys......Franklin，in particular." "He has an impulsive nature，"said Poirot. "Yes-yes......And very chivalrous.Men are so foolish that way.EvenCar-"Her voice tailed off. She shook her head with a febrile impatience. "Everything's so dim......One's body is a nuisance，M.Poirot，especiallywhen it gets the upper hand.One is conscious of nothing else-whether thepain will hold off or not-nothing else seems to matter." "I know，Lady Clarke.It is one of the stragedies of this life."
The Singing Butler