Hickory Dickory Dock

"Yes, I use green ink." "Horrid stuff," said Patricia. "I wish you wouldn't, Nigel. I've always told you I think it's horribly affected of you." "I like being affected," said Nigel. "Lilac ink would be even better, I think. I must try and get some. But are you serious, Mum? About the sabotage, I mean?" "Yes, I am serious. Was it your doing, Nigel?" "No, of course not. I like annoying people, as you kno,, but I'd never do a filthy trick like that-and certainly not to Black Bess who minds her own business in a way that's an example to some people I could mention. Where is that ink of mine? I filled my pen yesterday evening, I remember. I usually keep it on the shelf over there." He sprang up and went across the room. "Here it is." He picked the bottle up, then whistled. "You're right. The bottle's nearly empty. It should be practically full." The girl in a mackintosh gave a little gasp.

"Oh dear," she said. "Oh dear. I don't like it-was Nigel wheeled at her accusingly.

"Have you got an alibi, Celia?" he said menacingly. The girl gave a gasp.

"I didn't do it. I really didn't do it.

Anyway, I've been at the Hospital all day. I couldn't-was "Now, Nigel," said Mrs. Hubbard.

"Don't tease Celia.", Patricia Lane said angrily, "I don't see why Nigel should be suspected.

Just because his ink was taken-was Valerie said cattishly, "That's right, darling, defend your young." "But it's so unfair-was "But really I didn't have anything to do with it," Celia protested earnestly.

"Nobody thinks you did, infant," said Valerie impatiently. "All the same, you know," her eyes met Mrs. Hubbard's and exchanged a glance, "all this is getting beyond a joke. Something will have to be done about it." Something is going to be done," said Mrs. Hubbard grimly.

"'HERE YOU ARE, Mr. Poirot." Miss Lemon laid a small brown paper parcel before Poirot. He removed the paper and looked appraisingly at a well cut silver evening shoe.

"It was at Baker Street, just as you said." "That has saved us trouble," said Poirot. "Also it confirms my ideas." "Quite," said Miss Lemon who was sublimely incurious by nature.

She was, however, susceptible to the claims of family affection. She said, "If it is not troubling you too much, Mr.

Poirot, I received a letter from my sister. There- have been some new developments." "You permit that I read it?" She handed it to him and after reading it, he directed Miss Lemon to get her sister on the telephone.

Presently Miss Lemon indicated that the connection had been obtained. Poirot took the receiver.

"Mrs. Hubbard?" "Oh yes, Mr. Poirot. So kind of you to ring me up so promptly. I was really very-i" Poirot interrupted her.

"Where are you speaking from?" "Why-from 26 Hickory Road, of course.

Oh I see what you mean. I am in my own sitting room." "There is an extension?" "This is the extension. The main phone is downstairs in the hall." "Who is in the house who might listen in?" "All the students are out at this time of day. The cook is out marketing. Geronimo, her husbadd, understands very little English. There is a cleaning woman, but she is deaf and I'm quite sure wouldn't bother to listen in." "Very good, then. I can speak freely. Do you occasionally have lectures in the evening, or films?

Entertainments of some kind?" "We do have lectures occasionally. Miss Battrout, the explorer, came not long ago, with her coloured transparencies. And we had an appeal for Far Eastern Missions, though I am afraid quite a lot of the students went out that night." "Ah. Then this evening you will have prevailed on M.

Hercule Poirot, the employer of your sister, to come and discourse to your students on the more interesting of my cases." "That will be very nice, I'm sure, but do you think-was "It is not a question of thinking. I am sure!" That evening, students entering the Common Room found a notice tacked up on the Board which stood just inside the door.

M. Hercule Poirot, the celebrated private detective, has kindly consented to give a talk this evening on the theory and practice of successful detection, with an account of certain celebrated criminal cases.

Returning students made varied comments on this.

"Who's this private Eye?" "Never heard of him." "Oh, I have. There was a man who was condemned to death for the murder of a charwoman and this detective got him off at the last moment by finding the real person." "Sounds crumby to me." "I think it might be rather fun." "Colin ought to enjoy it. He's mad on criminal psychology." "I would not put it precisely like that, but I'll not deny that a man who has been closely acquainted with criminals might be interesting to interrogate." Dinner was at seven thirty and most of the students were already seated when Mrs. Hubbard came down from her sitting room (where sherry had been served to the distinguished guest) followed by a small elderly man with suspiciously black hair and a mustache of ferocious proportions which he twirled contentedly.

"These are some of our students, Mr. Poirot.