motherhood.

"The beloved angel! So big now, such

shoulders, so handsome! He is in America.

He builds there--bridges, banks, hotels, department stores, railways, anything the Americans want!35

Poirot looked slightly puzzled.

"He is then an engineer? Or an architect?"

"What does it matter?" demanded the

Countess. "He is adorable! He is wrapped

up in iron girders, and machinery, and

things called stresses. The kind of things

that I have never understood in the least.

But we adore each other --always we

adore each other! And so for his sake I

adore the little Alice. But yes, they are

engaged. They meet on a plane or a boat or

a train, and they fall in love, all in the

midst of talking about the welfare of the

workers. And when she comes to London

she comes to see me and I take her to my

heart." The Countess clasped her arms

across her vast bosom, "And I say --'You

and Niki love each other --so I too love

you --but if you love him why do you

leave him in America?' And she talks

433

about her 'job' and the book she is writing, and her career, and frankly I do not understand, but I have always said: "One must be

tolerant'." She added all in one breath, "And what do you think, cher ami, of all this that I have imagined here ?"

"It is very well imagined," said Poirot, looking round him approvingly. "It is chief The place was full and it had about it

that unmistakable air of success which

cannot be counterfeited. There were languid

couples in full evening dress,

Bohemians in corduroy trousers, stout

gentlemen in business suits. The band, dressed as devils, dispensed hot music. No doubt about it. Hell had caught on.

"We have all kinds here," said the

Countess. "That is as it should be, is it not ?

The gates of Hell are open to all ?"

"Except, possibly, to the poor ?" Poirot

suggested.

The Countess laughed. "Are we not

told that it is difficult for a rich man to

enter the Kingdom of Heaven ? Naturally,

then, he should have priority in Hell."

The Professor and Alice were returning

to the table. The Countess got up.

434

cc! must speak to Aristide."

She exchanged some words with the

head waiter, a lean Mephistopheles, then

went round from table to table, speaking

to the guests.

The Professor, wiping his forehead and

sipping a glass of wine, remarked:

"She is a personality, is she not?

People feel it."

He excused himself as he went over to

speak to someone at another table. Poirot,

left alone with the severe Alice, felt slightly

embarrassed as he met the cold blue of her

eyes. He recognised that she was actually

quite good-looking, but he found her

distinctly alarming.

"I do not yet know your last name,35

he murmured.

"Cunningham. Dr. Alice Cunningham.

You have known Vera in past days, I

understand ?"

"Twenty years ago it must be.35