Hickory Dickory Dock

If you rolled back the carpet in the Common Room there's quite a good floor, and you could dance to the wireless, but you never do." Celia laughed and said with a tinge of malice, "But you used to dance, Nigel. I've danced with you myself once, though I don't expect you to remember." "You've danced with me," said Nigel incredulously.

"Where?" "At Cambridge-in May Week." "Oh, May Week!" Nigel waved away the follies of youth. "One goes through that adolescent phase. Mercifully it soon passes." his Nigel was clearly not much more than twenty-five now. Poirot concealed a smile in his mustache.

Patricia Lane said earnestly, "You see, Mrs. Hubbard, there is so much study to be done.

With lectures to attend and one's notes to write up, there's really no time for anything but what is really worth while." "Well, my dear, one's only young once," said Mrs. Hubbard.

A chocolate pudding succeeded the spaghetti and afterwards they all went into the Common Room, and helped themselves to coffee from an urnthat stood on a table.

Poirot was then invited to begin his discourse. The two Turks politely excused themselves. The rest seated themselves and looked expectant.

Poirot rose to his feet and spoke with his usual aplomb. The sound of his own voice was always pleasant to him, and he spoke for three quarters of an hour in a light and amusing fashion, recallin, those of his experiences that lent themselves to an agreeable exaggeration. If he managed to suggest, in a subtle fashion, that he was, perhaps, something of a mountebank, it was not too obviously contrived.

"And so, you see," he finished, "I say to this City gentleman that I am reminded of a soap manufacturer I knew in L16ge who poisoned his wife in order to marry a beautiful blond secretary. I say it very lightly, but at once I get a reaction. He presses upon me the stolen money I had just recovered for him. He goes pale and there is fear in his eyes. 'I will give this money," I say, "to a deserving charity." 'Do anything you like with it," he says. And I say to him then, and I say it very significantly, "It will be advisable, Monsieur, to be very careful." He nods, speechless, and as I go out, I see that he wipes his forehead. He has had the big fright, and H have saved his life. For though he is infatuated with his blond secretary he will not now try and poison his stupid and disagreeable wife.

Prevention, always, is betaer than cure. We want to prevent murders-not wait until they have been committed." He bowed and spread out his hands.

"There, I have wearied you long enough." The students clapped him vigorously. Poirot bowed.

And then, as he was about to sit down, Colin Mcationabb took his pipe from between his teeth and observed, "And now, perhaps, you'll talk about what you're really here for!" There was a momentary silence and then Patricia said reproachfully, "Colin." "Well, we can all guess, can't we?" He looked round scornfully. "M. Poirot's given us a very amusing little talk, but that's not what he came for. He's on the job. You don't really think, Mr. Poirot, that we're not wise to that?" "You speak for yourself, Colin," said Sally.

"It's true, isn't it?" said Colin.

Again Poirot spread out his hands in a graceful acknowledging gesture.

"I will admit," he said, "that my kind hostess has confided to me that certain events have caused herworry." Len Bateson got up, his face heavy and truculent.

"Look here," he said, "what's all this? Has this been planted on us?" "Have you really only just tumbled to that, Bateson?" asked Nigel sweetly.

Celia gave a frightened gasp and said, "Then I was right!" Mrs. Hubbard spoke with decisive authority.

"I asked Mr. Poirot to give us a talk, but I also wanted to ask him his advice about various things that have happened lately. Something's got to be done and it seems to me that the only other alternative is-the police." At once a violent altercation broke out.

Genevieve burst into heated French. "It was a disgrace, shameful, to go to the police!" Other voices chimed in, for or against. In a final lull Leonard Bateson's voice was raised with decision.

"Let's hear what Mr. Poirot has to say about our trouble." Mrs. Hubbard said, "I've given Mr. Poirot all the facts.

If he wants to ask any questions, I'm sure none of you will object." Poirot bowed to her.

"Thank you." With the air of a conjurer he brought out a pair of evening shoes and handed them to Sally Finch.

"Your shoes, Mademoiselle?"

"Why-yes-both of them? Where did the missing one come from?" "From the Lost Property Office at Baker Street Station." "But what made you think it might be there, M.Poirot?"