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Oldfield's house. He went instead to the

local inn. The morning after his arrival, he had his first interview with Jean Moncrieffe.

She was a tall girl with copper-coloured

hair and steady blue eyes. She had about

her a watchful look, as of one who is upon

her guard.

She said:

"So Doctor Oldfield did go to you . . .

I knew he was thinking about it."

There was a lack of enthusiasm in her

tone.

Poirotsaid:

"And you did not approve ?"

Her eyes met his. She said coldly:

"What can you do?"

Poirot said quietly:

"There might be a way of tackling the

situation."

"What way?" She threw the words at

him scornfully. "Do you mean to go round

to all the whispering old women and say 'Really, please, you must stop talking like this. It's so bad for poor Doctor Oldfield.9 And they'd answer you and say: "Of course, / have never believed the story!" That's

the worst of the whole thing --they don't

69

say: 'My dear, has it ever occurred to you

that perhaps Mrs. Oldfield's death wasn't

quite what it seemed ?' No, they say: 'My

dear, of course I don't believe that story

about Doctor Oldfield and his wife. I'm sure he wouldn't do such a thing, though it's true that he did neglect her just a little

perhaps and I don't think, really it's quite wise to have quite a young girl as his dispenser

--of course, I'm not saying for a

minute that there was anything wrong between them. Oh no, I'm sure it was quite all right. . . .' " She stopped. Her

face was flushed and her breath came

rather fast.

Hercule Poirot said:

"You seem to know very well just what

is being said."

Her mouth closed sharply. She said

bitterly:

"I know all right!"

"And what is your own solution ?"

Jean Moncrieffe said:

"The best thing for him to do is to sell

his practice and start again somewhere

else."

"Don't you think the story might follow

him?"

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She shrugged her shoulders.

"He must risk that."

Poirot was silent for a minute or two.

Then he said:

"Are you going to marry Doctor Oldfield,

Miss Moncrieffe ?"

She displayed no surprise at the question.

She said shortly:

"He hasn't asked me to marry him."

"Why not ?"

Her blue eyes met his and nickered for

a second. Then she said:

"Because I've choked him off."

"Ah, what a blessing to find someone

who can be frank!"

"I will be as frank as you please. When

I realised that people were saying that

Charles had got rid of his wife in order to

marry me, it seemed to me that if we did

marry it would just put the lid on things. I

hoped that if there appeared to be no

question of marriage between us, the silly

scandal might die down."

"But it hasn't?"

"No, it hasn't."

"Surely," said Hercule Poirot, "that is