followed him. At the entrance to the hotel they saw her encounter a
police official in full uniform.
Elsie caught her breath.
"YOII (lo't think-anything's gone wrong?"
Harold reassured her quickly: "Oh, no, no, nothing of that kind."
But lie himself knew a sudden pang of fear.
He said, "Your mother's been woderfull"
"I know. Mother is a great fighter. She'll never sit down under
defeat." Elsie shivered. "But it is all horrible, isn't it?"
"Now, don't dwell on it. It's all over and done with."
Elsic said in a low voice, "I can't forget that-that it was I wlio
killed him."
H;ti-ol(I said urgently, "Don't think of it that way. It was an
acci(let. You know that really."
Her face grew a little hzlppier.
Hai-old added, "And anyw;ty it's past. The past is the past. -lly
never to think of it again."
Mrs. Rice came back. By the expression on her face they saw th;it all
was well.
L P,,ave me (l.uite a fright," she said almost gaily. "But it was only
a forniality about some I)apers. Everything's all right, my children.
We're out of the shadow. I think we might order ourselves a liqueur on
the strength of it."
The liqueur was ordered and came. They raised their glasses.
Mi-s. Rice said, "To the futurel" Harold smiled at Elsie and said, "To
your happinessl" Slie smiled back at him and said as she lifted her
glass, "And to you-to your success! I'm sure you're going to be a vei,y
gi-eat n."
N%7itli the reaction from fear they felt gay, almost lighthe:i(le(l.
'I'lie sli;idoxy had lifted! All was well....
l,'i-o the F;- en(i of the terrace the two birdlike women rose. -I'licy
rolled up their work carefully. They came
across the stone flags.
With little bows they sat (lown by Mrs. Rice. One of them began to
speak. The other one let her eyes rest on Elsie and Harold. There was
a little smile on her lips. It was not, Harold thought, a nice smile.
He looked over at Mrs. Rice. She was listening to the Polish woman and
though he couldn't understand a word, the expression on Mrs. Rice's
face was clear enough. All the old anguish and despair came back. She
listened and occasionally spoke a brief word.
Presently the two sisters rose, and with stiff little bows went into the
hotel.
Harold leaned forward.
He said hoarsely, "What is it?"
Mrs. Rice answered him in the quiet hopeless tones of despair.
"Those women are going to blackmail us. They heard everything last
night. And now we've tried to hush it up, it makes the whole thing a
thousand times worse."
Harold Waring was down by the lake. He had been walking feverishly for
over an hour, trying by sheer physical energy to still the clamor of
despair that had attacked him.
He came at last to the spot where he had first noticed the two grim
women who held his life and Elsie's in their evil talons. He said
aloud:
"Curse themi Damn them for a pair of devilish bloodsucking harpiesl"
A slight cough made him spin round. He found himself facing the
luxuriantly mustached stranger who had just come out from the shade of
the trees.
Harold found it difficult to know what to say. This little man must
have almost certainly overheard what he had just said.
Harold, at a loss, said somewhat ridiculously, "Oh-ergood afternoon."
In bet-feet English, the other replied, "But for you, I fear, iL is not
a good afternoon?"
"Well, er-l-" Harold was in difficulties again.
The little man said, "You are, I think, in trouble, Monsieur? Cati I
[-)e of any assistance to you?"
"Oli, no, thanks-no, thanksl just blowing off steam, yoti know."
I'lie other said gently, "But I think, you know, that I could help you.
I am correct, am I not, in connecting your troubles with two ladies who
were sitting on the terrace just now?"
Harold stared at him.
"Do yoti know anything about them?" He added, "Who are yoti, anyway?"
As though confessing to royal birth the little man said modestly, "I am
Hercule Poirot. Shall we walk a little way into the wood and you shall
tell me your story? As I say, I think I c aid you."
To tls (lay Harold is not quite certain what made him su(l(lenly I)our
out the whole story to a man to whom he ha(i only spoken for the first
time a few minutes before.
Perli;il-)s it was overstrain. Anyway, it happened. He told Hercule
Poirot the whole story.
I'he latter listened in silence. Once or twice he nodded his liea(l
gr;ively. When Harold came to a stop the other spoke (Ireimily.
"The Stymphalean Birds, with iron beaks, who feed on human fiesti and
who dwell by the Stymphalean Lake....
Yes it accords very well."
"I beg your pardon," said Harold, staring.
Perhaps, he thought, this curious-looking little man was mael!
Hercule Poirot smiled. "I reflect, that is all. I have my own way of
looking at things, you understand. Now as to tls I)tisess of yours. You
are very unpleasantly placed."
H;trold said impatiently, "I don't need you to tell me th;itl"
Hercule Poirot went on: "It is a serious business, blacknlz. -I'liese
hzirpies will force you to pay-and pay-and pay ;igzt! Ai)(I if you
(lefy them, well, what happens?"
Harold said bitterly, "The whole thing comes out. My
career's ruined, and a wretched girl who's never done anyone any liarm
will be put through hell, and God knows what the etid of it all will
bel"
"-Therefore," said Hercule Poirot, "something must be donel"
Harold said baldly, "What?"
Hercule Poirot leaned back, half closing his eyes. He said (and again a
doubt of his sanity crossed Harold's mind):
"It is the moment for the castanets of bronze."
Harold said, "Are you quite mad?"
The other shook Is head. He said, "Mais non! I strive only to follow
the exainple of my great predecessor, Hercules. Have a few
hours'patience, my friend. By tomorrow I may be able to deliver you
from your persecutors."
Harold Waring came down the following morning to find Hercule l'olrot
sitting alone on the terrace. In spite of himself Harold had been
impressed by Hercule Poirot's promises.
He came up to him now and asked anxiously, "Well?"
Hercule Poirot beanied upon him. "It is well."
"What do yoti mean?"
"Everything has settled itself satisfactorily."
"But what has happened?"
Hercule Poirot replied dreamily, "I have employed the castanets of
bronze. Or, in modern parlance, I have caused metal wires to h-in short
I have employed the telegraphl Your Stymphalean Birds, Monsieur, have
been removed to where they will be unable to exercise their ingenuity
for some tillie to come."
" I'liey were wanted by the police? They have been arrested?"
"Precisely."
Harold drew a deep breath. "How marvelousl I never tliotight of that."
He got up. "Imust find Mrs. Rice and Elsie and tell t
hem."
"-They know."
"Oh, good." Harold sat down again. "Tell me just
what-" He broke off.
Cong up the pith from the lake were two figures with flappina cloaks and
profiles like birds.
He exclaimed, "I thought you said they had been taken awayl"
Hercule Poirot followed his glance.
"Oli, those ladies? They akre very harmless; Polish ladies of good
f;ly, as the porter told you. Their appearance is, bei-lizips, not very
pleasing but that is all."
"But I (tori't understand!"
"No, yoti (lo not understandl It is the other ladies who were w;tle(iby
the police-the resourceful Mrs. Rice and the lacliryose Mrs. Claytonl
It is they who are wellknown birds of prey. Ttiose two, they make their
living by bl;ik:ki-ilail, mon cher."
Harold had a sensation of the world spinning round him.
He said faintly, "But the man-the man who was killed?"
"No one was killed. There was no manl"
"But I saw Inil"
"Oh, no. -I'he tall, deep-voiced Mrs. Rice is a very successful male
impersonator. It was s ' he who played the part of the
husl);ttid-without her gray wig and suitably made up for the I)art."
He leae(i forward and tapped the other on the knee.
"You must not go through life being too credulous, my fried. -I'lie
I)olice of a country are not so easily bribedthey are I)rol)ably not to
be bribed at all-certainly not when it is a (itiestion of murderl These
women trade on the average Englishman's ignorance of foreign languages.
Because she speaks French or German, it is always this Nirs.
Rice wlio interviews the manager and takes charge of the affair. The
1)'olice arrive and go to her room, yesl But wli;tt actually I)asses?
You do not know. Pertial)s she says she lias lost a broocti-soelhing of
that kind. Any excuse to:ti -- ,tge toi- the I)olice to come so that
you shall see them.
For the- est, what actually happens? You wire for money,
a lot of money, and you hand it over to Mrs. Rice, who is in charge of
all the negotiationsl And that is that! But they are greedy, these
birds of prey. They have seen that you have taken an unreasonable
aversion to these two unfortunate Polish ladies. The ladies in question
come and hold a perfectly innocent conversation with Mrs. Rice and she
cannot resist repeating the game. She knows you cannot understand what
is being said.
"So you will have to send for more money, which Mrs. Rice will pretend
to distribute to a fresh set of people."
Harold drew a deep breath. He said, "And Elsie-Elsie?"
Hercule Poirot averted his eyes.
"She played her part very well. She always does. A most accomplished
little actress. Everything is very pure-very innocent. She appeals,
not to sex, but to chivalry."
Hercule Poirot added dreamily, , 'That is always successful with
Englishmen."
Harold Waring drew a deep breath. He said crisply, "I'in going to set
to work and learn every European langage there isl Nobody's going to
make a fool of me a second timel"
HFRCULE POIROT LOOKED THOUGHTFULLY at his visitor.
He s;tw a I-):ile fztce with a deteriyne(I-looking chin, eyes that wei-e
nioi-e gi-ay than bilie, and liair that was of that real blue-black
sliade so seldom seen-the liyacinthine locks of cient Greece.
He noted the well-cut but also well-worn country tweeds, the shal)by
lia(lbag, and the unconscious arroga(:e of aer that lay belnd the girl's
obvious nervousness. He tliought to himself:
Ah, yes, she is "the Cou7ity"-but no money! And it must be somelhi?ig
quite out of the way that would bring her to me.
Diana Maberly said, and her voice shook a little, "I-I don't know
whether you can help me or not, M. Poirot.
It's-it's a very extraordinary position."
Poirot said, "But yes? Tell me?"
Diana Maberly said, "I've come to you because I don't know what to dol I
don't even know if there is anything to dol"
"Will you let me judge of that?"
The color s-ged su(l(lenly into the girl's face.
Slie said rapidly a(I breathlessly, "I've come to you because the man
I've been engaged to for over a year has broken off our engagement."
She stopped anti eyed him defiantly.
"You must think," she said, "that I'm completely mental."
Slowly Hercule Poirot shook his head.
"On the contrary, Madenioiselle, I have no doul)t whatever I)tit that
you are extremely intelligent. It is certainly not yrne'liey- in life
to 1)atcli tip the lovers' qtizirrels, and I ktiow very well that you
are quite aware of that. It is,
therefore, that there is something unusual about the breaking of this
engagement. That is so, is it not?"
The girl nodded. She said in a clear, precise voice, "Hugh broke off
our engagement because he thinks he is going mad. He thinks people who
are mad should not marry.
Hercule Poirot's eyebrows rose a little.
"And do you not agree?"
"I don't know.... What is being mad, after all? Everyone is a little
niad."
"It has been said so," Poirot agreed cautiously.
"It's only when you begin thinking you're a poached egg or something
that they have to shut you up."
"And your fianed has not reached that stage?"
Diana Maberly said, "I can't see that there's anything wrong with Hugh
at ;ill. He's, oh, he's the sanest person I know. Sound-dependable-"
"theD why does lie think he is mad?"
Poirot paused a moment before going on.
"Is there, perhaps, madness in his family?"
Reluctantly Diana jerked her head in assent.
She said, ", His grandfather was mental, I believe-and some great-aunt
or other. But what I say is, that every family has got someone queer in
it. You know, a bit halfwitted or extra clever or somethingl" Her eyes
were appealing.
Hercule Poirot ;hook his head sadly.
He said, "I am very sorry for you, Mademoiselle."
Her chin shot out.
She cried, "I don't want you to be sorry for mel I want you to do
somethingl"
"What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know -but there's something wrong "Will you tell me,
Mademoiselle, all about your fiance?"
Diana spoke rapidly, "His name's Hugh Chandler. He's twenty-four. His
father is Admiral Chandler. They live at Lyde Manor. It's been in the
Chandler family since the time of Elizabeth. Hugh's the only son. He
went into the Navy-all the Chandlers are sailors-it's a sort of
tradition
-ever since Sir Gilbert Chandler sailed with Sir Walter Raleigh in
fifteen-something-or-other. Hugh went into the Navy as a matter of
course. His father wouldn't have heard of anything else. And yet-and
yet, it was his father who insisted on getting him out of itl"
"When was that?"
"Nearly a year ago. Quite suddenly."
"Was HLtgli Chandler happy in his profession?"
"Absolutely."
"There was no scandal of any kind?"
"About Hugh? Absolutely nothing. He was getting on splendidly.
He-he
couldn't understand his father."
"What reason did Admiral Chandler himself give?"
Diana said slowly, "He never really gave a reason. Oh, he said it was
necessary Hugh should learn to manage the estate-but-but that was only a
pretext. Even George Frobislier realized that."
"Who is George Frobisher?"
"Colonel Frol)islier. He's Admiral Chandler's oldest friend and Hugh's
godfather. He spends most of his time down at Llie Manor."
"And what did Colonel Frobisher think of Admiral-Chandler's
determination that his son should leave the Navy?"
"He was dumfounded. He couldn't understand it at all.
Noi)ody could."
"Not even Hugh Chandler himself?"
Diana did not answer at once.
Poirot waited a minute, then he went on: "At the time, perhaps, he too
was astonished. But now? Has he said nothing-nothing at all?"
Diana murmured reluctantly, "He said-about a week ago-that-that his
father was right-that it was the only thing to be done."
"I)id you ask him why?"
"Of course. But he wouldn't tell me."
Hercule Poirot reflected for a nnute or two. Then he said, "Have there
been any unusual occurrences in your part of the world? Starting,
perhaps, about a year ago?
Something that has given rise to a lot of local talk and surmise?"
She flashed out, "I don't know what you meanl"
Poirot said quietly, but with authority in his voice, "You had better
tell me."
"There wasn't anything-nothing of the kind you mean."
"Of what kind then?"
"I think you're simply odiousl Queer things often happen on farms. It's
revenge-or the village idiot or somebody."
"What happened?"
She said reluctantly, "There was a fuss about some sheep. Their throats
were cut. Ohl it was horridl But they all belonged to one farmer and
he's a very hard man. The police thought it was some kind of spite
against him."
"But they didn't catch the person who had done it?"
"No."
She added fiercely, "But if you think-"
Poirot held up his hand. He said, "You do not know in the least what I
think. Tell me this, has your fianed consulted a doctor?"
"No, I'm sure he hasn't."
"Wouldn't that be the simplest thing for him to do?"
Diana said slowly, "He woh't. He-tfe hates doctors."
"And his father?"
"I don't think the Admiral believes much in doctors either. Says
they're a lot of humbug merchants."
"How does the Admiral seem himself? Is he well?
Happy?"
Diana said in a low voice, "He's aged terribly in-in-"
"In the last year?"
"Yes. He's a wreck-a sort of shadow of what he used to be."
Poirot nodded thoughtfully. Then he said, "Did he approve of his son's
engagement?"
"Oh, yes. You see, my people's land adjoins his. We've been there for
generations. He was frightfully pleased when Hugh and I fixed it up."
"And now? What does he say to your engagement being
broken off?"
The girl's voice shook a little. She said, "I met him yesterday
morning. He was looking ghastly. He took my hand in both of his. He
said, 'It's hard on you, my girl. But the boy's doing the right
thing-the only thing he can do."' "And so," said Hercule Poirot, "you
came to me?"
She nodded. She asked, "Can you do anything?"