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“The darkroom opens out of the photographic room?”
“Yes.”
“And so you never came outside the photographic room?”
“No.”
“Did you notice anything that went on in the courtyard?”
The young man shook his head.
“I wasn’t noticing anything,” he explained. “I was busy. I heard the car come back, and as soon as I could leave what I was doing I came out to s
ee if there was any mail. It was then that I—heard.”
“And you began to work in the photographic room—when?”
“At ten minutes to one.”
“Were you acquainted with Mrs. Leidner before you joined this expedition?”
The young man shook his head.
“No, sir. I never saw her till I actually got here.”
“Can you think of anything—any incident—however small—that might help us?”
Carl Reiter shook his head.
He said helplessly: “I guess I don’t know anything at all, sir.”
“Mr. Emmott?”
David Emmott spoke clearly and concisely in his pleasant soft American voice.
“I was working with the pottery from a quarter to one till a quarter to three—overseeing the boy Abdullah, sorting it, and occasionally going up to the roof to help Dr. Leidner.”
“How often did you go up to the roof?”
“Four times, I think.”
“For how long?”
“Usually a couple of minutes—not more. But on one occasion after I’d been working a little over half an hour I stayed as long as ten minutes—discussing what to keep and what to fling away.”
“And I understand that when you came down you found the boy had left his place?”
“Yes. I called him angrily and he reappeared from outside the archway. He had gone out to gossip with the others.”
“That settles the only time he left his work?”
“Well, I sent him up once or twice to the roof with pottery.”
Poirot said gravely: “It is hardly necessary to ask you, Mr. Emmott, whether you saw anyone enter or leave Mrs. Leidner’s room during that time?”
Mr. Emmott replied promptly.
“I saw no one at all. Nobody even came out into the courtyard during the two hours I was working.”
