"Fine specimen, eh?53 said Colonel

Frobisher.

He spoke in a low voice, having noted

Poirot's close scrutiny of the young man.

Hercule Poirot nodded his head. He and

Frobisher were sitting close together. The

other three had their chairs on the far side

of the tea-table and were chatting together

in an animated but slightly artificial

manner.

Poirot murmured: "Yes, he is magnificent

--magnificent. He is the young Bull

--yes, one might say the Bull dedicated

to Poseidon. ... A perfect specimen of

healthy manhood."

"Looks fit enough, doesn't he ?"

Frobisher sighed. His shrewd little eyes

stole sideways, considering Hercule Poirot.

Presently he said:

"I know who you are, you know.

"Ah that, it is no secretp?

Poirot waved a royal hand. He was not incognito, the gesture seemed to say. He was travelling as Himself.

252

After a minute or two Frobisher asked:

"Did the girl get you down--over this

business ?"

"The business --?"

"The business of young Hugh. . . . Yes,

I see you know all about it. But I can't

quite see why she went to you.... Shouldn't

have thought this sort of thing was in your

line--meantersay it's more a medical show."

"All kinds of things are in my line. . . .

You would be surprised."

"I mean I can't see quite what she expected

you could do.

"Miss Maberly," said Poirot, "is a

fighter.M

Colonel Frobisher nodded a warm assent.

"Yes, she's a fighter all right. She's a

fine kid. She won't give up. All the same, you know, there are some things that you can't fight. . . ." His face looked suddenly old and tired.

Poirot dropped his voice still lower. He

murmured discreetly:

"There is --insanity, I understand, in

the family ?"

Probisher nodded.

253

"Only crops up now and again,3' he

murmured. "Skips a generation or two.

Hugh's grandfather was the last."

Poirot threw a quick glance in the

direction of the other three. Diana was

holding the conversation well, laughing

and bantering Hugh. You would have said

that the three of them had not a care in

the world.

"What form did the madness take?"

Poirot asked softly.

"The old boy became pretty violent in

the end. He was perfectly all right up to

thirty—normal as could be. Then he

began to go a bit queer. It was some time

before people noticed it. Then a lot of

rumours began going around. People

started talking properly. Things happened

that were hushed up. But—well," he

raised his shoulders "ended up as mad as

a hatter, poor devil! Homicidal! Had to

be certified."

He paused for a moment and then

added:

"He lived to be quite an old man, I

believe. . . . That's what Hugh is afraid

of, of course. That's why he doesn't want

to see a doctor. He's afraid of being shut

254

up and living shut up for years. Can't say

I blame him. I'd feel the same." "And Admiral Chandler, how does he feel ?"