Hercule Poirot's Casebook

to you. Miss Plenderleith took them to a golf course. She leaves

them in the clubhouse while she gets a couple of irons from her

own bag, and then she goes round without a caddy. Doubtless

at judicious intervals she breaks a club in half and throws it into

some deep undergrowth, and ends by throwing the empty bag

away. If anyone should f'md a broken golf club here and there

it will not create surprise. People have been known to break and

throw away all their clulas in a mood of intense exasperation

over the game! It is, in fact, that kind of game!

'But since she realizes that her actions may still be a matter

0finterest, she throws that useful red herring - the attache-case

- in a somewhat spectacular manner into the lake - and that, my

friend, is the truth of "The Mystery of the Attache-Case."'

Japp looked at his friend for some moments in silence. Then

he rose, clapped him on the shoulder, and burst out laughing.

'Not so bad for an old dog! Upon my word, you take the

cake! Come out and have a spot of lunch?'

'With pleasure, my friend, but we will not have the cake.

Indeed, an Omelette aux Champignons, Blanquette de Veau,

Petits pois la Francaise, and - to follow - a Baba au Rhum.'

:'Lead me to it,' said Japp.

115

TRI'qqE AT RHODES

CHAFI J R l

1

P ' g lb ,Ste'i '

s carefully dressed in a andified

fashion in i:.'ff . annels and a large nanama . -

h

ute/. ,.,

k o

'"- v'' x'ted

his

ead.

He

-,Ae;-d to the old-fashioned enerafi0 ·

g a

which

believed lZvo

,

h g itself carefully from the sun. Mi

L w

*

'

'

' ' sPamela

yall, het ach

,lde him and talked

ceaselessly,

re,re

t m

'' · sented

he oden

bl of thought m that she was

w ·

b st . .v, . ekfng

the

are

mm: 17 clothing on

her sun-browned

person.

occasio

ly

e

r flow of conversation stopped Whilst she

reanointed

r from a bottle of oily fluid

which stood beside

her.

On the l

alt

,lde of

Miss Pamela Lyall her ·

· %e

,. . great fnen(,

Mss Sara

ltffq lay face downwards on a gaudily

-st4?e,j

towel. Mis,

-' o: s tanning was as.perfect

as

ssible

if ' d

ar

,

. , po and ier

hen

cast%y .tiea gmnces at her more than once

I

m so atch j

ll, she murmured

regretfully

M,

Poirot -

would you .djti ist belo ,w the

right shoulder-blade - I can't

reach to ruhi.. li roperly.

M. Poir

thpi.

d and then wiped his oil hand car

h'

o,

,/ · .

. ?

ffully on

is handkethi(,ati?hss Lyall, whose pnncipal

interests

in

life

were

the

oh w 4nl)n

of

people

round

her

and

the

souhd

of

her

own

voice, ed

to

talk

a

. tll

'

.

.

I. w(rs,n t

a D hat

w o.

man

the

one n

the Chanel model

- t s

me,he

at?es

-

t nantry,

I

mean.

I

thought

it

was.

I

rec

°

gnizedhe

r ?n )nce.

She's

really

rather

marvellous,

isn't

she?

I

meant

'

-

sJ/.,; nderstand

how

people

go

uite

er

t

.....

car/el .

.

q

a v

abou

her.

ane

lull l -- s y expects them

to!

That's

half the

battle.

116

Those other people who came last night are called Gold. He's

terribly good-looking.'

'Honeymooners?' murmured Sarah in a stifled voice.

Miss Lyall shook her head in an experienced manner.

'Oh, no - her clothes aren't new enough. You can always tell

brides! Don't you think it's the most fascinating thing in the

world to watch'people, M. Poirot, and see what you can fred

out about them by just looking?'

'Not just looking, darling,' said Sarah sweetly. 'You ask a lot

of questions, too.'

'I haven't even spoken to the Golds yet,' said Miss Lyall

with dignity. 'And anyway I don't se why one shouldn't be

interested in one's fellow-creatures? Human nature is simply

fascinating. Don't you think so, M. Poirot?'

This time she paused long enough to allow her companion to

reply.

Without taking his eyes offthe blue water, M. Poirot replied:

Pamela was shocked.

'Oh, M. Poirot! I don't think anything's so interesting - so

incalculable as a human being!'

'Incalculable? That, no.'

'Oh, but they are. Just as you think you've got them

beautifully taped - they do something completely unexpected.'

Hercule Poirot shook his head.

'No, no, that is not true. It is most rare that anyone does an

action that is not clans son caractbre. It is in the end

monotonous.'

'I don't agree with you at all!' said Miss Pamela Lyall.

She was silent for quite a minute and a half before returning

to the attack.

'As soon as I see people I begin wondering about them what

they're like - what relations they are to each other - what

they're thinking and feeling. It's - oh, it's quite thrilling.'

'Hardly that,' said Hercule Poirot. 'Nature repeats herself

more than one would imagine. The sea,' he added thoughtfully,

'has infinitely more variety.'

117

Sarah turned her head sideways and asked:

'You think that human beings tend to reproduce certain

patterns? Stereotyped patterns?'

'Prcisment,' said Poirot, and traced a design in the sand

with his £mger.

'What's that you're drawing?' asked Pamela curiously.

'A triangle,' said Poirot.

But Pamela's attention had been diverted elsewhere.

'Here are the Chantrys,' she said.

A woman was coming down the beach - a tall woman, very

conscious of herself and her body. She gave a half-nod and

smile and sat down a little distance away on the beach. The

scarlet and gold silk wrap slipped down from her shoulders.

She was wearing a white bathing-dress.

Pamela sighed.

'Hasn't she got a lovely figure?'