"I haven't--well, at least I have, but it's nothing important, something quite silly." She laughed a little.

She went on: "It's only that I thought I saw my friend--the girl I live with--go in there, and I wondered if she'd gone to see Mrs. Oliver."

"Is that where Mrs. Oliver lives? I didn't know."

"Yes. She came to see us the other day and she gave us her address and asked us to come and see her. I wondered if it was Rhoda I saw or not." "Do you want to go up and see?"

"No, I'd rather not do that." '

"Come and have tea with me," said Mrs. Lorrimer. "There is a shop quite near here that I know."

"It's very kind of you," said Anne, hesitating.

452

"Oh, Anne, you want your tea."

"No, I don't. I've had it. With Mrs. Lorrimer."

"Mrs. Lorrimer? Isn't that the one the one who was there?"

Anne nodded.

"Where did you come across her? Did you go and see her?" "No. I ran across her in Harley Street."

"What was she like?"

Anne said slowly: "I don't know. She was--rather queer. Not at all like the other night."

"Do you still think she did it?" asked Rhoda.

Anne was silent for a minute or two. Then she said: "I don't know. Don't let's talk of it, Rhoda! You know how I hate talking of things."

"All right, darling. What was the solicitor like? Very dry and legal?"

"Rather alert and Jewish."

"Sounds all right." She waited a little and then said: "How was Major Despard?" "Very kind."

"He's fallen for you, Anne. I'm sure he has."

"Rhoda, don't talk nonsense."

"Well, you'll see."

Rhoda began humming to herself. She thought: "Of course he's fallen for her. Anne's awfully pretty. But a bit wishy washy She'll never go on treks with him. Why, she'd scream if she saw a snake Men always do take fancies to unsuitable women."

Then she said aloud.

"That bus will take us to Paddington. We'll just catch the 4:48."

CHAPTER 19

Consultation

The telephone rang in Poirot's room and a respectful voice spoke.

"Sergeant O'Connor.

Superintendent Battle's compliments and would it be convenient for Mr. Hercule Poirot to come to Scotland Yard at 11:307"

Poirot replied in the affirmative and Sergeant O'Connor rang off.

It was 11:30 to the minute when Poirot descended from his taxi at the door of New Scotland Yard---to be at once seized upon by Mrs. Oliver.

"M. Poirot.

How splendid! Will you come to my rescue?" "EnchantS, madame.

What can I do?"

"Pay my taxi for me. I don't know how it happened but I brought out the bag I keep my going-abroad money in and the man simply won't take francs or liras or marks!"

Poirot gallantly produced some loose change, and he and Mrs. Oliver went inside the building together.

They were taken to Superintendent Batfie's own room. The superintendent

was sitting behind a table and looking more wooden than ever. "Just like a piece of modern sculpture," whispered Mrs. Oliver to Poirot.

Battle rose and shook hands with them both and they sat down.

"I thought it was about time for a little meeting," said Battle. "You'd like to hear how I've got on, and I'd like to hear how you've got on. We're just waiting for Colonel Race and then- "

But at that moment the door opened and the colonel appeared.

"Sorry I'm late, Battle. How do you do, Mrs. Oliver. Hallo, M. Poirot. Very sorry if I've kept you waiting. But I'm off to-morrow and had a lot of things to see to."

"Where are you going to?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "A little shooting tripBaluchistan way."

Poirot said, smiling ironically:

"A little trouble, is there not, in that part of the world? You will have to be careful."

"I mean to be," said Race gravely--but his eyes twinkled.

"Got anything for us, sir?" asked Battle.

"I've got you your information re Despard. Here it is--

He pushed over a sheaf of papers.

"There's a ma.s.s of dates and places there. Most of it quite irrelevant, I should imagine. Nothing agains, t him. He's a stout fellow. Record quite unblemished.

Strict disciplinarian. Liked and trusted by the natives everywhere. One of their c.u.mbrous names for him in Africa, where they go in for such things, is 'The man who keeps his mouth shut and judges fairly.' General opinion of the white races that Despard is a Pukka Sahib. Fine shot. Cool head. Generally long-sighted and dependable."

Unmoved by this eulogy, Battle asked:

"Any sudden deaths connected with him?"

"I laid special stress on that point. There's one fine rescue to his credit. Pal of

his was being mauled by a lion."

Battle sighed.

"It's not rescues I want."

"You're a persistent fellow, Battle. There's only one incident I've been able to rake up that might suit your book. Trip into the interior in South America.

Despard accompanied Professor Luxmore, the celebrated botanist, and his wife.

The professor died of fever and was buried somewhere up the Amazon."

"Fever-eh?"

"Fever. But I'll play fair with you. One of the native bearers (who was sacked for stealing, incidentally) had a story that the professor didn't die of fever, but was

shot. The rumour was never taken seriously." "About time it was, perhaps."

Race shook his head.

"I've given you the facts. You asked for them and you're ent.i.tled to them, but I'd lay long odds against its being Despard who did the dirty work the other evening. He's a white man, Battle."

"Incapable of murder, you mean?"