‘And apart from her there is only Miss Johnson,’ I said, watching him.

‘That would be quite ridiculous!’

The little smile with which he said it was quite conclusive. The idea of Miss Johnson being the author of the letters had never entered his head! I hesitated just for a minute – but I didn’t say anything. One doesn’t like giving away a fellow woman, and besides, I had been a witness of Miss Johnson’s genuine and moving remorse. What was done was done. Why expose Dr Leidner to a fresh disillusion on top of all his other troubles?

It was arranged that I should leave on the following day, and I had arranged through Dr Reilly to stay for a day or two with the matron of the hospital whilst I made arrangements for returning to England either via Baghdad or direct via Nissibin by car and train.

Dr Leidner was kind enough to say that he would like me to choose a memento from amongst his wife’s things.

‘Oh, no, really, Dr Leidner,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t. It’s much too kind of you.’

He insisted.

‘But I should like you to have something. And Louise, I am sure, would have wished it.’

Then he went on to suggest that I should have her tortoiseshell toilet set!

‘Oh, no, Dr Leidner! Why, that’s a most expensive set. I couldn’t, really.’

‘She had no sisters, you know – no one who wants these things. There is no one else to have them.’

I could quite imagine that he wouldn’t want them to fall into Mrs Mercado’s greedy little hands. And I didn’t think he’d want to offer them to Miss Johnson.

He went on kindly: ‘You just think it over. By the way, here is the key of Louise’s jewel case. Perhaps you will find something there you would rather have. And I should be very grateful if you would pack up – all her clothes. I dare say Reilly can find a use for them amongst some of the poor Christian families in Hassanieh.’

I was very glad to be able to do that for him, and I expressed my willingness.

I set about it at once.

Mrs Leidner had only had a very simple wardrobe with her and it was soon sorted and packed up into a couple of suitcases. All her papers had been in the small attache-case. The jewel case contained a few simple trinkets – a pearl ring, a diamond brooch, a small string of pearls, and one or two plain gold bar brooches of the safety-pin type, and a string of large amber beads.

Naturally I wasn’t going to take the pearls or the diamonds, but I hesitated a bit between the amber beads and the toilet set. In the end, however, I didn’t see why I shouldn’t take the latter. It was a kindly thought on Dr Leidner’s part, and I was sure there wasn’t any patronage about it. I’d take it in the spirit it had been offered, without any false pride. After all, I had been fond of her.

Well, that was all done and finished with. The suitcases packed, the jewel case locked up again and put separate to give to Dr Leidner with the photograph of Mrs Leidner’s father and one or two other personal little odds and ends.

The room looked bare and forlorn emptied of all its accoutrements, when I’d finished. There was nothing more for me to do – and yet somehow or other I shrank from leaving the room. It seemed as though there was something still to do there – something I ought to see – or something I ought to have known. I’m not superstitious, but the idea did pop into my head that perhaps Mrs Leidner’s spirit was hanging about the room and trying to get in touch with me.

I remember once at the hospital some of us girls got a planchette and really it wrote some very remarkable things.

Perhaps, although I’d never thought of such a thing, I might be mediumistic.

As I say, one gets all worked up to imagine all sorts of foolishness sometimes.

I prowled round the room uneasily, touching this and that. But, of course, there wasn’t anything in the room but bare furniture. There was nothing slipped behind drawers or tucked away. I couldn’t hope for anything of that kind.

In the end (it sounds rather batty, but as I say, one gets worked up) I did rather a queer thing.

I went and lay down in the bed and closed my eyes.

I deliberately tried to forget who and what I was. I tried to think myself back to that fatal afternoon. I was Mrs Leidner lying here resting, peaceful and unsuspicious.

It’s extraordinary how you can work yourself up.

I’m a perfectly normal matter-of-fact individual – not the least bit spooky, but I tell you that after I’d lain there about five minutes I began to feel spooky.

I didn’t try to resist. I deliberately encouraged the feeling.

I said to myself: ‘I’m Mrs Leidner. I’m Mrs Leidner. I’m lying here – half asleep. Presently – very soon now – the door’s going to open.’

I kept on saying that – as though I were hypnotizing myself.

‘It’s just about half-past one… it’s just about the time… The door is going to open… the door is going to open…I shall see who comes in…’

I kept my eyes glued on that door. Presently it was going to open. I should see it open. And I should seethe person who opened it.

I must have been a little over-wrought that afternoon to imagine I could solve the mystery that way.

But I did believe it. A sort of chill passed down my back and settled in my legs. They felt numb-paralysed.

‘You’re going into a trance,’ I said. ‘And in that trance you’ll see…’

And once again I repeated monotonously again and again:

‘The door is going to open – the door is going to open…’

The cold numbed feeling grew more intense.

And then, slowly, I saw the door just beginning to open.

It was horrible.

I’ve never known anything so horrible before or since.

I was paralysed – chilled through and through. I couldn’t move. For the life of me I couldn’t have moved.

And I was terrified. Sick and blind and dumb with terror.

That slowly opening door.

So noiseless.

In a minute I should see…

Slowly – slowly – wider and wider.

Bill Coleman came quietly in.

He must have had the shock of his life!

I bounded off the bed with a scream of terror and hurled myself across the room.

He stood stock – still, his blunt pink face pinker and his mouth opened wide with surprise.

‘Hallo-allo-allo,’ he said. ‘What’s up, nurse?’

I came back to reality with a crash.

‘Goodness, Mr Coleman,’ I said. ‘How you startled me!’

‘Sorry,’ he said with a momentary grin.

I saw then that he was holding a little bunch of scarlet ranunculus in his hand. They were pretty little flowers and they grew wild on the sides of the Tell. Mrs Leidner had been fond of them.

He blushed and got rather red as he said: ‘One can’t get any flowers or things in Hassanieh. Seemed rather rotten not to have any flowers for the grave. I thought I’d just nip in here and put a little posy in that little pot thing she always had flowers in on her table. Sort of show she wasn’t forgotten – eh? A bit asinine, I know, but – well – I mean to say.’

I thought it was very nice of him. He was all pink with embarrassment like Englishmen are when they’ve done anything sentimental. I thought it was a very sweet thought.

‘Why, I think that’s a very nice idea, Mr Coleman,’ I said.

And I picked up the little pot and went and got some water in it and we put the flowers in.

I really thought much more of Mr Coleman for this idea of his. It showed he had a heart and nice feelings about things.

He didn’t ask me again what made me let out such a squeal and I’m thankful he didn’t. I should have felt a fool explaining.

‘Stick to common sense in future, woman,’ I said to myself as I settled my cuffs and smoothed my apron. ‘You’re not cut out for this psychic stuff.’

I bustled about doing my own packing and kept myself busy for the rest of the day.

Father Lavigny was kind enough to express great distress at my leaving. He said my cheerfulness and common sense had been such a help to everybody. Common sense! I’m glad he didn’t know about my idiotic behaviour in Mrs Leidner’s room.