"What's the matter with the family?
Why should they all get killed, one after
another? Oh, Ariadne, it's frightening}"
"Yes," said Mrs. Oliver, "but there are
times when it's quite right to be frightened.
I've just had a telegram and I'm
acting upon it."
"Oh, I didn't hear the telephone."
"It didn't come through the telephone.
It came to the door."
She hesitated a moment, then she held
it out to her friend.
"What's this mean? Operation?"
"Tonsils, probably," said Mrs. Oliver.
"Miranda had a bad throat last week, J
hadn't she? Well, what more likely than ;
346
that she should be taken to consult a throat
specialist in London?"
"Are you quite mad, Ariadne?"
"Probably," said Mrs. Oliver, "raving
mad. Come on. Miranda will enjoy being
in London. You needn't worry. She's not
going to have any operation. That's what's
called 'cover' in spy stories. We'll take her
to a theatre, or an opera or the ballet, whichever way her tastes lie. On the whole
I think it would be best to take her to the
ballet."
"I'm frightened," said Judith.
Ariadne Oliver looked at her friend. She
was trembling slightly. She looked more
than ever, Mrs. Oliver thought, like
Undine. She looked divorced from reality.
"Come on," said Mrs. Oliver, "I promised
Hercule Poirot I'd bring you when he
gave me the word. Well, he's given me the
word."
"What's going on in this place?" said
Judith. "I can't think why I ever came
here."
"I sometimes wondered why you did,"
said Mrs. Oliver, "but there's no
accounting for where people go to live. A tnend of mine went to live in Moreton-in-
347
the-Marsh the other day. I asked him why
he wanted to go and live there. He said
he'd always wanted to and thought about
it. Whenever he retired he meant to go
there. I said that I hadn't been to it myself
but it sounded to me bound to be damp.
What was it actually like? He said he
didn't know what it was like because he'd
never been there himself. But he had
always wanted to live there. He was quite
sane, too."
"Did he go?"
"Yes."
( - "Did he like it when he got there?"
"Well, I haven't heard that yet," said
Mrs. Oliver. "But people are very odd,
aren't they? The things they want to do,
the things they simply have to do ..."
She went to the garden and called,
"Miranda, we're going to London."
Miranda came slowly towards them.
"Going to London?"
"Ariadne's going to drive us there," said
her mother. "We'll go and see a theatre
there. Mrs. Oliver thinks perhaps she can
get tickets for the ballet. Would you like
to go to the ballet?"
"I'd love it," said Miranda. Her eyes
348
lighted up. "I must go and say goodbye
to one of my friends first." "We're going practically at once."
"Oh, I shan't be as long as that, but I
must explain. There are things I promised
to do."
She ran down the garden and disappeared
through the gate.
"Who are Miranda's friends?" asked
Mrs. Oliver, with some curiosity.
"I never really know," said Judith. "She
never tells one things, you know. Sometimes
I think that the only things that she
really feels are her friends are the birds she^ looks at in the woods. Or squirrels or
things like that. I think everybody likes
her but I don't know that she has any
particular friends. I mean, she doesn't
bring back girls to tea and things like that.
Not as much as other girls do. I think her
best friend really was Joyce Reynolds."
She added vaguely: "Joyce used to tell her
fantastic things about elephants and
tigers." She roused herself. "Well, I must
go up and pack, I suppose, as you insist.
But I don't want to leave here. There are
lots of things I'm in the middle of doing, like this jelly and--"
349
"You've got to come," said Mrs. Oliver.
She was quite firm about it.
Judith came downstairs again with a
couple of suitcases just as Miranda ran in
through the side door, somewhat out of
breath.
"Aren't we going to have lunch first?"
she demanded.
In spite of her elfin woodland appearance, she was a healthy child who liked
her food.
"We'll stop for lunch on the way," said
Mrs. Oliver. "We'll stop at The Black Boy
at Haversham. That would be about right.
It's about three-quarters of an hour from
here and they give you quite a good meal.
Come on, Miranda, we're going to start
now."
"I shan't have time to tell Cathie I can't
go to the pictures with her to-morrow. Oh, perhaps I could ring her up."
"Well, hurry up," said her mother.
Miranda ran into the sitting-room where
the telephone was situated. Judith and
Mrs. Oliver put suitcases into the car.
Miranda came out of the sitting-room.
"I left a message," she said breathlessly.
"That's all right now."
350
"I think you're mad, Ariadne," said
Judith, as they got into the car. "Quite
mad. What's it all about?"
"We shall know in due course, I
suppose," said Mrs. Oliver. "I don't know
if I'm mad or he is."
"He? Who?"
"Hercule Poirot," said Mrs. Oliver.
In London Hercule Poirot was sitting in a
room with four other men. One was
Inspector Timothy Raglan, looking respectful
and poker-faced as was his
invariable habit when in the presence of
his superiors, the second was Superintendent
Spence. The third was Alfred
Richmond, Chief Constable of the County
and the fourth was a man with a sharp, legal face from the Public Prosecutor's
office. They looked at Hercule Poirot with
varying expressions, or what one might
describe as non-expressions.
"You seem quite sure. Monsieur
Poirot."
"I am quite sure," said Hercule Poirot. "When a thing arranges itself so, one
realises that it must be so, one only looks
for reasons why it should not be so. If one
351
does not find the reasons why it should not
be so, then one is strengthened in one's
opinion."
"The motives seem somewhat complex, if I may say so."
"No," said Poirot, "not complex really.
But so simple that they are very difficult
to see clearly."
The legal gentleman looked sceptical.
"We shall have one piece of definite
evidence very soon now," said Inspector
Raglan. "Of
course, if there has been a
mistake on that point ..."
"Ding dong dell, no pussy in the well?"
said Hercule Poirot. "That is what you
mean?"
"Well, you must agree it is only a
surmise on your part."
"The evidence pointed to it all along.
When a girl disappears, there are not many
reasons. The first is that she has gone away
with a man. The second is that she is dead.
Anything else is very far-fetched and practically
never happens."
"There are no other special points that
you can bring to our attention. Monsieur
Poirot?"
"Yes. I have been in touch with a well352
known firm of estate agents. Friends of
mine, who specialise in real estate in the
West Indies, the Aegean, the Adriatic, the
Mediterranean and other places. They
specialise in sunshine and their clients are
usually wealthy. Here is a recent purchase
that might interest you."
He handed over a folded paper.
"You think this ties up?"
"I'm sure it does."
"I thought the sale of islands was prohibited
by that particular government?"
"Money can usually find a way."
"There is nothing else that you would
care to dwell upon?"
"It is possible that within twenty-four
hours I shall have for you something that
will more or less clinch matters."
"And what is that?"
"An eyewitness."
"You mean--?"
"An eye-witness to a crime."
The legal man looked at Poirot with
mounting disbelief.
"Where is this eye-witness now?"
"On the way to London, I hope and
trust."
"You sound--disturbed."
353
"That is true. I have done what I can
to take care of things, but I will admit to
you that I am frightened. Yes, I am frightened
in spite of the protective measures I
have taken. Because, you see, we are--
how shall I describe it?--we are up against
ruthlessness, quick reactions, greed
pushed beyond an expectable human limit
and perhaps--I am not sure but I think it
possible--a touch, shall we say, of
madness? Not there originally, but cultivated.
A seed that took root and grows
fast. And now perhaps has taken charge, inspiring an inhuman rather than a human
attitude to life."
"We'll have to have a few extra opinions
on this," said the legal man. "We can't
rush into things. Of course, a lot depends
on the--er--forestry business. If that's
positive, we can go ahead, but if it's negative, we'd have to think again."
Hercule Poirot rose to his feet.
"I will take my leave. I have told you
all that I know and all that I fear and
envisage as possible. I shall remain in
touch with you."
He shook hands all round with foreign
precision, and went out.
354
"The man's a bit of a mountebank,"
said the legal man. "You don't think he's a
bit touched, do you? Touched in the head
himself, I mean? Anyway, he's a pretty
good age. I don't know that one can rely
on the faculties of a man of that age."
"I think you can rely upon him," said
the Chief Constable. "At least, that is my
impression. Spence, I've known you a
good many years. You're a friend of his.
Do you think he's become a little senile?"
"No, I don't," said Superintendent
Spence. "What's your opinion, Raglan?"
"I've only met him recently, sir. At first
I thought his—well, his way of talking, his
ideas, might be fantastic. But on the whole
I'm converted. I think he's going to be
proved right."
355
24
MRS. OLIVER had ensconced
herself at a table in the window
of The Black Boy. It was still
fairly early, so the dining-room was not
very full. Presently, Judith Butler returned
from powdering her nose and sat down
opposite her and examined the menu.
"What does Miranda like?" asked Mrs.
Oliver. "We might as well order for her
as well. I suppose she'll be back in a
minute."
"She likes roast chicken."
"Well, that's easy then. What about
you?"
"I'll have the same."
"Three roast chickens," Mrs. Oliver
ordered.
She leaned back, studying her friend.
"Why are you staring at me in that way?"
"I was thinking," said Mrs. Oliver.
"Thinking what?"
"Thinking really how very little I knew
about you."
356
"Well, that's the same with everybody,
isn't it?"
"You mean, one never knows all about
anyone."
"I shouldn't think so."
"Perhaps you're right," said Mrs.
Oliver.
Both women were silent for some time.
"They're rather slow serving things
here."
"It's coming now, I think," said Mrs.
Oliver.
A waitress arrived with a tray full of
dishes.
"Miranda's a long time. Does she know
where the dining-room is?"
"Yes, of course she does. We looked in
on the way." Judith got up impatiently.
"I'll have to go and fetch her."
"I wonder if perhaps she gets car sick."
"She used to when she was younger."
She returned some four or five minutes
later.
"She's not in the Ladies'," she said.
"There's a door outside it into the garden.
Perhaps she went out that way to look at
a bird or something. She's like that."
"No time to look at bird's to-day," said
357
Mrs. Oliver. "Go and call her or something.
We want to get on."
Elspeth McKay pricked some sausages
with a fork, laid them on a baking dish, put it in the Frigidaire and started to peel
potatoes.
The telephone rang.
"Mrs. McKay? Sergeant Goodwin here.
Is your brother there?"
"No. He's in London today."
"I've rung him there--he's left. When
he gets back, tell him we've had a positive
result."
"You mean you've found a body in the
well?"
"Not much use clamming up about it.
The word's got round already."
"Who is it? The au pair girl?"
"Seems like it."
"Poor girl," said Elspeth. "Did she
throw herself in--or what?"
"It wasn't suicide--she was knifed. It
was murder all right."
After her mother had left the Ladies'
Room, Miranda waited for a minute or
two. Then she opened the door, cautiously
358
peered out, opened the side door to the
garden which was close at hand and ran
down the garden path that led round to
&nb
sp; the back yard of what had once been a
coaching inn and was now a garage. She
went out at a small door that enabled
pedestrians to get into a lane outside. A
little farther down the lane a car was
parked. A man with beetling grey
eyebrows and a grey beard was sitting in
it reading a newspaper. Miranda opened
the door and climbed in beside the
driving-seat. She laughed.
"You do look funny."
"Have a hearty laugh, there's nothing to
stop you."
The car started, went down the lane, turned right, turned left, turned right
again and came out on a secondary road.
"We're all right for time," said the
grey-bearded man. "At the right moment
you'll see the double axe as it ought to be
seen. And Kilterbury Down, too. Wonderful
view."
A car dashed past them so closely that
they were almost forced into the hedge.
"Young idiots," said the grey-bearded
man.
359
One of the young men had long hair
reaching over his shoulders and large, owlish spectacles. The other one affected a
more Spanish appearance with sideburns.
"You don't think Mummy will worry
about me?" asked Miranda.
"She won't have time to worry about
you. By the time she worries about you, you'll have got where you want to be."
In London, Hercule Poirot picked up the
telephone. Mrs. Oliver's voice came over.
"We've lost Miranda."
"What do you mean, lost her?"
"We had lunch at The Black Boy. She
went to the loo. She didn't come back.
Somebody said they saw her driving away
with an elderly man. But it mightn^t have
been her. It might have been someone
else. It--"
"Someone should have stayed with her.
Neither of you ought to have let her out
of your sight. I told you there was danger.
Is Mrs. Butler very worried?"
"Of course she's worried. What do you
think? She's frantic. She insists on ringing
the police."
360
"Yes, that would be the natural thing to
do. I will ring them also."
"But why should Miranda be in
danger?"
"Don't you know? You ought to by
now." He added, "The body's been found.
I've just heard—"
"What body?"
"A body in a well."
25
"^TT'S beautiful," said Miranda, looking
| round her.
-JL Kilterbury Ring was a local beauty
spot though its remains were not particularly
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