He was a sound man --a man bred in the

tradition --a man who had married John

Hammett's daughter --who had been John

Hammett's right hand man and who could

be trusted to carry on the government of

the country in the John Hammett tradition.

For John Hammett was particularly

dear to the people and Press of England.

175

He represented every quality which was

dear to Englishmen. People said of him:

"One does feel that Hammett's honest." Anecdotes were told of his simple home life, of his fondness for gardening. Corresponding

to Baldwin's pipe and Chamberlain^s

umbrella, there was John Hammett's

raincoat. He always carried it --a weatherworn

garment. It stood as a symbol --of

the English climate, of the prudent forethought

of the English race, of their

attachment to old possessions. Moreover, in his bluff British way, John Hammett was an orator. His speeches, quietly and

earnestly delivered, contained those simple

sentimental cliches which are so deeply

rooted in the English heart. Foreigners

sometimes criticise them as being both

hypocritical and unbearably noble. John

Hammett did not in the least mind being

noble --in a sporting, public school, deprecating

fashion.

Moreover, he was a man of fine presence, tall, upstanding, with fair colouring and very bright blue eyes. His mother had

been a Dane and he himself had been for

many years First Lord of the Admiralty, which gave rise to his nickname of "the 176

Viking". When at last ill-health forced him

to give up the reins of office, deep uneasiness

was felt. Who would succeed him ?

The brilliant Lord Charles Delafield?

(Too brilliant--England didn't need

brilliance.) Evan Whittler ? (Clever --but

perhaps a little unscrupulous.) John

Potter ? (The sort of man who might fancy

himself as Dictator --and we didn't want

any dictators in this country, thank you

very much.) So a sigh of relief went up

when the quiet Edward Ferrier assumed

office. Ferrier was all right. He had been

trained by the Old Man, he had married

the Old Man's daughter. In the classic

British phrase, Ferrier would "carry on".

Hercule Poirot studied the quiet darkfaced

man with the low pleasant voice.

Lean and dark and tired-looking.

Edward Ferrier was saying:

"Perhaps, M. Poirot, you are acquainted

with a weekly periodical called the X-ray

News ?"

"I have glanced at it," admitted Poirot,

blushing slightly.

The Prime Minister said:

"Then you know more or less of what it

consists. Semi-libellous matter. Snappy

fti 177

paragraphs hinting at sensational secret

history. Some of them true, some of them

harmless --but all served up in a spicy

manner. Occasionally --"

He paused and then said, his voice

altering a little:

"Occasionally something more."

Hercule Poirot did not speak. Ferrier

went on:

'Tor two weeks now there have been

hints of impending disclosures of a firstclass

scandal in 'the highest political

circles'. 'Astonishing revelations of corruption

and jobbery.'"

Hercule Poirot said, shrugging his

shoulders:

"A common trick. When the actual

revelations come they usually disappoint