The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories

"Ah, my friend, do you think I am never off duty? Can I not, for once, seek only to amuse myself?"

"Perhaps you've got an appointment with Carter here. The latest from Geneva. Interna-tional situation now acute. The stolen plans must

be found or war will be declared tomorrow!" Pauline Weatherby said cuttingly:

"Must you be so completely idiotic, Tony?" "Sorry, Pauline."

Tony Chapell relapsed into crestfallen silence. "How severe you are, Mademoiselle."

"I hate people who play the fool all the time?

"I must be careful, I see. I must converse only of serious matters."

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"Excuse me, must just speak to a fellow I know over there. Fellow I was with at Eton." Stephen Ca-ter got up and walked to a table a few places away. Tony said gloomily: "Somebody ought to drown old Etonians at birth." Hercule Poirot was still being gallant to the dark beauty beside him. He murmured: "I wonder, may I ask, what are the favorite flowers of Mademoiselle?" "Ah, now, why ees eet you want to know?" Lola was arch. "Mademoiselle, if I send flowers to a lady, I am

particular that they should be flowers she likes."

"That ees very charming of you, M. P0irot. I weel tell you--I adore the big dark red carnations --or the dark red roses." "Superb--yes, SUperb! You do not, then, like yellow fiowersyellow irises?" "Yellow flowers--no--they do not accord with my temperament." "How wise .... Tell me, Mademoiselle, did you ring up a friend tonight, since you arrived here?" "I? Ring up a friend? No, what a curious question!'' "Ah, but I, I am a very curious man." "I'm sure yoo are." She rolled her dark eyes at him. "A vairy dangerous man." "No, no, not dangerous; say, a man who may be useful--in danger! You understand?" Lola giggled. She showed white even teeth. "No, no," she laughed. "You are dangerous." Hercule Poirot sighed.

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"I see that you do not understand. All this is very strange."

Tony came out of a fit of abstraction and said

suddenly: "Lola, what about a spot of swoop and dip? Come along." "I weel come--yes. Since M. Poirot ecs not brave enough I" Tony put an arm round her and remarked over his shoulder to Poirot as they glided off: "You can meditate on crime yet to come, old boy!" Poirot said: "It is profound what you say there. Yes, it is profound .... " He sat meditatively for a minute or two, then he raised a finger. Luigi came promptly, his wide Italian face wreathed in smiles. "Mon vieux," said Poirot. "I need some information." "Always at your service, Monsieur." "I desire to know how many of these people at this table here have used the telephone tonight?" "I can tell you, Monsieur. The young lady, the one in white, she telephoned at once when she got here. Then she went to leave her cloak and while she was doing that the other lady came out of the cloakroom and went into the telephone box." "So the Sefiora did telephone! Was that before

she came into the restaurant?"

"Yes, Monsieur." "Anyone else?" "No, Monsieur." "All this, Luigi, gives me furiously to think!" "Indeed, Monsieur." "Yes. I think, Luigi, that tonight of all nights, I

114 Agatha Christie

must have my wits about me! Something is going to happen, Luigi, and I am not at all sure what it is." "Anything I can do, Monsieur--" Poirot made a sign. Luigi.slipped discreetly away. Stephen Carter was returning to the table. "We are still deserted, Mr. Carter," said Poirot. "Oh--er--quite," said the other. "You know Mr. Barton Russell well?" "Yes, known him a good while." "His sister-in-law, little Miss Weatherby, is very charming." "Yes, pretty girl." "You know her well, too?"

"Quite."

"Oh, quite, quite," said Poirot. Carter stared at him. The music stopped and the others returned. Barton Russell said to a waiter: "Another bottle of champagne--quickly." Then he raised his glass. "See here, folks. I'm going to ask you to drink a toast. To tell you the truth, there's an idea back of this little party tonight. As you know, I'd ordered a table for six. There were only five of us. That gave us an empty place. Then, by a very strange coincidence, M. Hercule Poirot happened to pass by and I asked him to join ourarty. "You don't know yet what an apt coincidence that was. You see that empty seat tonight represents a lady--the lady in whose memory this party is being given. This party, ladies and gentlemen, is being held in memory of my dear wife--Iris--who died exactly four years ago on this very date!"

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There was a startled movement round the table.

Barton Russell, his face quietly impassive, raised his glass. I'll ask you to drink to her memory. Iris!"

"Iris?" said Poirot sharply. He looked at the flowers. Barton Russell caught his glance and gently nodded his head.

There were little murmurs round the table.