‘Curse the woman,’ said Warburton angrily. ‘Where can she have disappeared to? The children are waiting and we’re behind schedule as it is.’

He looked round.

‘Where’s Amanda Brewis?’

Miss Brewis, also, was not in evidence.

‘It really is too bad,’ said Warburton. ‘One’s got to have some co-operation if one’s trying to run a show. Where can Hattie be? Perhaps she’s gone into the house.’

He strode off rapidly.

Poirot edged his way towards the roped-off space where teas were being served in a large marquee, but there was a long queue waiting and he decided against it.

He inspected the Fancy Goods stall where a determined old lady very nearly managed to sell him a plastic collar box, and finally made his way round the outskirts to a place where he could contemplate the activity from a safe distance.

He wondered where Mrs Oliver was.

Footsteps behind him made him turn his head. A young man was coming up the path from the quay; a very dark young man, faultlessly attired in yachting costume. He paused as though disconcerted by the scene before him.

Then he spoke hesitatingly to Poirot.

‘You will excuse me. Is this the house of Sir George Stubbs?’

‘It is indeed.’ Poirot paused and then hazarded a guess. ‘Are you, perhaps, the cousin of Lady Stubbs?’

‘I am Etienne de Sousa –’

‘My name is Hercule Poirot.’

They bowed to each other. Poirot explained the circumstances of the fête. As he finished, Sir George came across the lawn towards them from the coconut shy.

‘De Sousa? Delighted to see you. Hattie got your letter this morning. Where’s your yacht?’

‘It is moored at Helmmouth. I came up the river to the quay here in my launch.’

‘We must find Hattie. She’s somewhere about…You’ll dine with us this evening, I hope?’

‘You are most kind.’

‘Can we put you up?’

‘That also is most kind, but I will sleep on my yacht. It is easier so.’

‘Are you staying here long?’

‘Two or three days, perhaps. It depends.’ De Sousa shrugged elegant shoulders.

‘Hattie will be delighted, I’m sure,’ said Sir George politely. ‘Where is she? I saw her not long ago.’

He looked round in a perplexed manner.

‘She ought to be judging the children’s fancy dress. I can’t understand it. Excuse me a moment. I’ll ask Miss Brewis.’

He hurried off. De Sousa looked after him. Poirot looked at De Sousa.

‘It is some little time since you last saw your cousin?’ he asked.

The other shrugged his shoulders.

‘I have not seen her since she was fifteen years old. Soon after that she was sent abroad – to school at a convent in France. As a child she promised to have good looks.’

He looked inquiringly at Poirot.

‘She is a beautiful woman,’ said Poirot.