"But she was always so terribly dowdy and proper and opening Bazaars."

"Just camouflage, darling. They say

she's a nymphomaniac. Well, I mean\ It's

all in the X-ray News. Oh, not right out, but you can read between the lines. I don't know how they get hold of these

things."

"What do you think of all this political

scandal touch? They say her father embezzled

the Party funds."

VII

People were talking.

"I don't like to think of it, and that's a

fact, Mrs. Rogers. I mean, I always thought

Mrs. Ferrier was a really nice woman."

"Do you think all these awful things

are true ?"

"As I say, I don't like to think it of her.

194

Why, she opened a Bazaar in Pelchester

only last June. I was as near to her as I

am to that sofa. And she had such a

pleasant smile."

"Yes, but what I say is there's no smoke

without fire."

"Well, of course that's true. Oh dear,

it seems as though you can't believe in

any one\"

VIII

Edward Ferrier, his face white and strained,

said to Poirot:

"These attacks on my wife! They're

scurrilous — absolutely scurrilous! I'm

bringing an action against that vile rag."

Hercule Poirot said: "I do not advise you

to do so."

"But these damned lies have got to be

stopped."

"Are you sure they are lies ?"

"God damn you, 3^!"

Poirot said, his head held a little on one

side:

"What does your wife say ?"

For a moment Ferrier looked taken

aback.

^She says it is best to take no notice.

i95

. . . But I can't do that--everybody is

talking."

Hercule Poirot said: "Yes, everybody is

talking.33

IX

And then came the small bald announcement

in all the papers.

Mrs. Ferrier has had a slight nervous

breakdown. She has gone to Scotland to

recuperate.

Conjectures, rumours --positive information

that Mrs. Ferrier was not in

Scotland, had never been to Scotland.

Stories, scandalous stories, of where

Mrs. Ferrier really was. . . .

And again, people talking.

"I tell you Andy saw her. At that

frightful place! She was drunk or doped

and with an awful Argentine gigolo-Ramon. You know!33

More talking.

Mrs. Ferrier had gone off with an

Argentine dancer. She had been seen in

Paris, doped. She had been taking drugs

for years. She drank like a fish.

Slowly the righteous mind of England, at first unbelieving, had hardened against 196

Mrs. Ferrier. Seemed as though there

must be something in it! That wasn't the

sort of woman to be the Prime Minister's

wife. "A Jezebel, that's what she is, nothing

better than a Jezebel!"

And then came the camera records.

Mrs. Ferrier, photographed in Paris —

lying back in a Night Club, her arm twined

familiarly over the shoulder of a dark,

olive-skinned vicious-looking young man.

Other snapshots — half-naked on a

beach—her head on the lounge lizard's

shoulder.

And underneath:

"•"•Mrs. Ferrier has a good time. ..."

Two days later an action for libel was