Chapter Nineteen By Way of Sweden


          Poirot returned to his seat and sat humming a little tune to
     himself.
         "Unfortunate that she is so intelligent，"he murmured.
         "Who?"
         "Megan Barnard.Mademoiselle Megan.
         "Words，"she snaps out.At once she perceives that what I am saying
     means
     nothing at all.Everybody else was taken in."
         "I thought it sounded very plausible."
         "Plausible，yes.It was just that she perceived.
         "Didn't you mean what you said，then?"
         "What I said could have been comprised into one short
     sentence.Instead I
     repeated myself ad lib without anyone but Mademoiselle Megan being
     aware of
     the fact."
         "But why?"
         "Eh bien-to get things going!To imbue everyove with the impression
     that
     there was work to be done!To start-shall we say-the conversations!"
         "Don't you think any of these lines will lead to anything?"
         "Oh，it is always possible."
         He chuckled.
         "In the midst of tragedy we start the comedy.
         It is so，is it not?"
         "What do you mean?"
         "The human drama，Hastings!Reflect a little minute.Here are three
     sets
     of human beings brought together by a common tragedy.Immediately a
     second
     drama commences-tout a fait a part.Do you remember my first case in
     England?Oh，so many years ago now.I brought together two people who
     loved
     one another-by the simple method of having one of them arrested for
     murder!
         Nothing less would have done it!In the midst of death we are in
     life，
     Hastings......Murder，I have often noticed，is a great matchmaker."
         "Really，Poirot，"I cried scandalized.
         "I'm sure none of those people was thingking of anything
     but-""Oh!my
     dear friend.And what about yourself?"
         "I?"
         "Mais oui，as they departed，did you not come back from the door
     humming
     a tune?"
         "One may do that without being callous."
         "Certainly，but that tune told me your thoughts."
         "Indeed?"
         "Yes.To hum a tune is extremely dangerous.It reveals the
     subconscious
     mind.The tune you hummed dates，I think，from the days of the
     war.Comme ca，
     "Poirot sang in an abominable falsetto voice:
         "Some of the time I love a brunette，Some of the tim I love a
     blonde
     (who comes from Eden by way of Sweden).
         "What could be more revealing?Mais je crois que la blonde
     l'emporte sur
     la brunette!"
         "Really，Poirot，"I cried，blushing slightly.
         "C'est tout naturel.Did you observe how Franklin Clarke was
     suddenly at
     one and in sympathy with Mademoiselle Megan?How he learned forward and
     looked at her?And did you also notice how very much annoyed
     Mademoiselle
     Thora Grey was about it?And Mr Donald Fraser，he-""Poirot，"I
     said."Your
     mind is incurably sentimental."
         "That is the last thing my mind is.You are the sentimental one，
     Hastings."
         I was about to argue the point hotly，but at that moment the door
     opened.
         To my astonishment it was Thora Grey who entered.
         "Forgive me for coming back，"she said composedly."But there was
     something that I think I would like to tell you，M.Poirot."
         "Certainly，mademoiselle.Sit down，will you not?"
         She took a seat and hesitated for just a minute as though choosing
     her
     words.
         "It is just this，M.Poirot.Mr Clarke very generously gave you to
     understand just now that I had left Combeside by my own wish.He is a
     very
     kind and loyal person.But as a matter of fact，it is not quite like
     that.
         I was quite prepared to stay on-there is any amount of work to be
     done
     in connection with the collections.It was Lady Clarke who wished me to
     leave!
         I can make allowances.She is a very ill woman，and her brain is
     somewhat
     muddled with the drugs they give her.It makes her suspicious and
     fanciful.
         She took an unreasoning dislike to me and insisted that I should
     leave
     the house."
         I could not but admire the girl's courage.She did not attempt to
     gloss
     over facts，as so many might have been tempted to do，but went
     straight to
     the point with an admirable candour.My heart went out to her in
     admiration
     and sympathy.
         "I call it splendid of you to come and tell us this，"I said.
         "It's always better to have the truth，"she said with a little
     smile."I
     don't want to shelter behind Mr Clarke's chivalry.
         He is a very chivalrous man."
         There was a warm glow in her words.She evidently admired Franklin
     Clarke
     enormously.
         "You have been very honest，mademoiselle，"said Poirot.
         "It is rather a blow to me，"said Thora ruefully."I had no idea
     Lady
     Clarke disliked me so much.In fact，I always thought she was rather
     fond of
     me."She made a wry face."One lives and learns."
         She rose.
         "That is all I came to say.Goodbye."
         I accompanied her downstairs.
         "I call that very sporting of her，"I said as I returned to the
     room.
         "She has courage，that girl."
         "And calculation."
         "What do you mean-calculation?"
         "I mean that she has the power of looking ahead."
         I looked at him doubtfully.
         "She really is a lovely girl，"I said.
         "And wears very lovely clothes.That crepe marocain and the silver
     fox
     collar-dernier cri."
         "You're a man milliner，Poirot.I never notice what people have
     on."
         "You should join a nudist colony."
         As I was about to make an indignant rejoinder，he said，with a
     sudden
     change of subject:
         "Do you know，Hastings，I cannot rid my mind of the impression
     that
     already，in our conversations this afternoon，something was said that
     was
     significant.It is odd-I cannot pin down exactly what it was......Just
     an
     impression that passed through my mind......That reminds me of
     something I
     have already heard or seen or noted......"
         "Something at Churston?"
         "No-not at Chruston......Before that......No matter，presently it
     will
     come to me......"
         He looked at me (perhaps I had not been attending very closely)，
     laughed
     and began once more to hum.
         "She is an angel，is she not?From Eden，by way of Sweden......"
         "Poirot，"I said，"Go to the devil."

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