exercising her tongue on the subject of

302

her neighbours --the only drawback being

that Poirot had to submit to hearing a

great deal about people in whom he had

no interest whatever, before coming to the

subject of the people he was interested in.

"The Grants? Oh yes, there are four

of them. Four girls. I don't wonder the

poor General can't control them. What can

a man do with four girls?" Lady Carmichael's

hands flew up eloquently. Poirot

said: "What indeed?" and the lady continued:

"Used to be a great disciplinarian in

his regiment, so he told me. But those

girls defeat him. Not like when I was

young. Old Colonel Sandys was such a

martinet, I remember, that his poor

daughters --"

(Long excursion into the trials of the

Sandys girls and other friends of Lady

Carmichael's youth.)

"Mind you," said Lady Carmichael, reverting to her first theme. "I don't say there's anything really wrong about those

girls. Just high spirits --and getting in

with an undesirable set. It's not what it

used to be down here. The oddest people

come here. There's not what you might

303

call 'county' left. It's all money, money,

money nowadays. And you do hear the

oddest stories! Who did you say ? Anthony

Hawker? Oh yes, I know him. What I

call a very unpleasant young man. But

apparently rolling in money. He comes

down here to hunt — and he gives parties

— very lavish parties — and rather

peculiar parties, too, if one is to believe

all one is told — not that I ever do, because

I do think people are so ill-natured. They

always believe the worst. You know, it's

become quite a fashion to say a person

drinks or takes drugs. Somebody said to

me the other day that young girls were

natural inebriates, and I really don't think

that was a nice thing to say at all. And if

anyone's at all peculiar or vague in their

manner, everyone says "drugs' and that's

unfair, too. They say it about Mrs. Larkin

and though I don't care for the woman, I

do really think it's nothing more than

absent-mindedness. She's a great friend

of your Anthony Hawker, and that's why,

if you ask me, she's so down on the Grant

girls — says they're man-eaters! I dare say

they do run after men a bit, but why

not? It's natural, after all. And they're

304

good-looking pieces, every one of them."

Poirot interjected a question.

"Mrs. Larkin? My dear man, it's no

good asking me who she is. Who's anybody

nowadays? They say she rides well and

she's obviously well off. Husband was

something in the city. He's dead, not

divorced. She's not been here very long,

came here just after the Grants did. I've

always thought she — "

Old Lady Carmichael stopped. Her

mouth opened, her eyes bulged. Leaning

forward she struck Poirot a sharp blow

across the knuckles with a paper-cutter

she was holding. Disregarding his wince