‘The fact that Etienne de Sousa came here in a lavishly appointed luxury yacht showing that his family is rich, the fact that old Merdell was Marlene Tucker’s grandfather (which I did not know until today), the fact that Lady Stubbs was fond of wearing the coolie type of hat, the fact that Mrs Oliver, in spite of an unbridled and unreliable imagination, is, unrealized by herself, a very shrewd judge of character, the fact that Marlene Tucker had lipsticks and bottles of perfume hidden at the back of her bureau drawer, the fact that Miss Brewis maintains that it was Lady Stubbs who asked her to take a refreshment tray down to Marlene at the boathouse.’

‘Facts?’ The chief constable stared. ‘You call those facts? But there’s nothing new there.’

‘You prefer evidence – definite evidence – such as – Lady Stubbs’ body?’

Now it was Bland who stared.

‘You have found Lady Stubbs’ body?’

‘Not actually found it – but I know where it is hidden. You shall go to the spot, and when you have found it, then – then you will have evidence – all the evidence you need. For only one person could have hidden it there.’

‘And who’s that?’

Hercule Poirot smiled – the contented smile of a cat who has lapped up a saucer of cream.

‘The person it so often is,’ he said softly; ‘the husband. Sir George Stubbs killed his wife.’

‘But that’s impossible, M. Poirot. We know it’s impossible.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Poirot, ‘it is not impossible at all! Listen, and I will tell you.’

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Hercule Poirot paused a moment at the big wrought-iron gates. He looked ahead of him along the curving drive. The last of the golden-brown leaves fluttered down from the trees. The cyclamen were over.

Poirot sighed. He turned aside and rapped gently on the door of the little white pilastered lodge.

After a few moments’ delay he heard footsteps inside, those slow hesitant footsteps. The door was opened by Mrs Folliat. He was not startled this time to see how old and frail she looked.

She said, ‘M. Poirot? You again?’

‘May I come in?’

‘Of course.’

He followed her in.

She offered him tea which he refused. Then she asked in a quiet voice:

‘Why have you come?’

‘I think you can guess, Madame.’

Her answer was oblique.

‘I am very tired,’ she said.

‘I know.’ He went on, ‘There have now been three deaths, Hattie Stubbs, Marlene Tucker, old Merdell.’

She said sharply:

‘Merdell? That was an accident. He fell from the quay. He was very old, half-blind, and he’d been drinking in the pub.’

‘It was not an accident. Merdell knew too much.’

‘What did he know?’