wife died. She had been an invalid for

some years. They are saying, everyone is

saying, that I killed her — that I poisoned

her!"

"Aha," said Poirot. "And did you

poison her ?"

"M. Poirot!" Dr. Oldfield sprang to his

feet.

"Calm yourself," said Hercule Poirot.

"And sit down again. We will take it, then,

59

that you did not poison your wife. But

your practice, I imagine, is situated in a

country district — "

"Yes. Market Loughborough — in

Berkshire. I have always realised that it

was the kind of place where people gossiped

a good deal, but I never imagined that it

could reach the lengths it has done." He

drew his chair a little forward. "M. Poirot,

you have no idea of what I have gone

through. At first I had no inkling of what

was going on. I did notice that people

seemed less friendly, that there was a

tendency to avoid me — but I put it down

to — to the fact of my recent bereavement.

Then it became more marked. In the

street, even, people will cross the road to

avoid speaking to me. My practice is

falling off. Wherever I go I am conscious

of lowered voices, of unfriendly eyes that

watch me whilst malicious tongues whisper

their deadly poison. I have had one or two

letters — vile things."

He paused — and then went on:

"And — and / don't know what to do

about it. I don't know how to fight this —

this vile network of lies and suspicion.

How can one refute what is never said

60

openly to your face ? I am powerless - trapped--and slowly and mercilessly being destroyed."

Poirot nodded his head thoughtfully. He

said:

"Yes. Rumour is indeed the nineheaded

Hydra of Lernea which cannot be

exterminated because as fast as one head

is cropped off two grow in its place."

Dr. Oldfield said: "That's just it. There's

nothing I can do--nothing! I came to

you as a last resort --but I don't suppose

for a minute that there is anything you can

do either."

Hercule Poirot was silent for a minute

or two. Then he said:

(c! am not so sure. Your problem interests

me. Doctor Oldfield. I should like

to try my hand at destroying the manyheaded

monster. First of all, tell me a little

more about the circumstances which gave

rise to this malicious gossip. Your wife

died, you say, just over a year ago. What

was the cause of death ?"

"Gastric ulcer."

"Was there an autopsy ?"

"No. She had been suffering from gastric

trouble over a considerable period."

61

Poirot nodded.

"And the symptoms of gastric inflammation

and of arsenical poisoning are

closely alike--a fact which everybody

knows nowadays. Within the last ten

years there have been at least four sensational

murder cases in each of which the

victim has been buried without suspicion

with a certificate of gastric disorder. Was

your wife older or younger than yourself?"