young man who entered and stood there

looking ill at ease, twisting his cap in his

hands.

Here, he thought, was one of the handsomest

specimens of humanity he had

ever seen, a simple young man with the

outward semblance of a Greek god.

The young man said in a low husky voice:

"About the car, sir, we've brought it in.

And we've got at the trouble. It's a matter

of an hour's work or so."

Poirot said:

"What is wrong with it ?"

The young man plunged eagerly into

technical details. Poirot nodded his head

gently, but he was not listening. Perfect

^

physique was a thing he admired greatly.

There were, he considered, too many rats

in spectacles about. He said to himself

approvingly: "Yes, a Greek god — a young

shepherd in Arcady."

The young man stopped abruptly. It was

then that Hercule Poirot's brows knitted

themselves for a second. His first reaction

had been aesthetic, his second mental. His

eyes narrowed themselves curiously, as he

looked up.

He said:

"I comprehend. Yes, I comprehend."

He paused and then added: "My chauffeur,

he has already told me that which you have

just said."

He saw the flush that came to the others

cheek, saw the fingers grip the cap

nervously.

The young man stammered:

"Yes — er — yes, sir. I know."

Hercule Poirot went on smoothly:

"But you thought that you would also

come and tell me yourself?"

"Er — yes, sir, I thought I'd better."

"That," said Hercule Poirot, "was very

conscientious of you. Thank you."

There was a faint but unmistakable note

106

of dismissal in the last words but he did

not expect the other to go and he was

right. The young man did not move.

His fingers moved convulsively, crushing

the tweed cap, and he said in a still lower

embarrassed voice:

"Er—excuse me, sir—but it's true,

isn't it, that you're the detective gentleman

— you're Mr. Hercules Pwarrit ?" He said

the name carefully.

Poirot said: "That is so."

Red crept up the young man's face. He

said:

"I read a piece about you in the paper."

"Yes ?"

The boy was now scarlet. There was

distress in his eyes — distress and appeal.

Hercule Poirot came to his aid. He said

gently:

"Yes ? What is it you want to ask me ?"

The words came with a rush now.

"I'm afraid you may think it's awful

cheek of me, sir. But your coming here

by chance like this — well, it's too good to

be missed. Having read about you and the

clever things you've done. Anyway, I said

as after all I might as well ask you. There's

no harm in asking, is there ?"

107

Hercule Poirot shook his head. He said:

"You want my help in some way ?33

The other nodded. He said, his voice

husky and embarrassed:

"Ifs—it's about a young lady. If—

if you could find her for me.33

"Find her ? Has she disappeared, then ?"