She turned to face him.

'What did you mean on the telephone when you said that you had been expecting me to call you?'

Poirot smiled. He spread out his hands.

'Just that, Mademoiselle. I was expecting a call from you-and the call came.'

'You mean that you knew I'd ring up about this Sainsbury Seale woman.'

Poirot shook his head.

'That was only the pretext. You could have found something else if necessary.'

Jane said: 'Why the h.e.l.lshould I call you up?'

'Why should you deliver this t.i.tbit of information about Miss Sainsbury Seale tome instead of giving it to Scotland Yard? That would have been the natural thing to do.'

'All right, Mr Know All, how much exactlydo you know?'

'I know that you are interested in me since you heard that I paid a visit to the Holborn Palace Hotel the other day.'

She went so white that it startled him. He had not believed that that deep tan could change to such a greenish hue.

He went on, quietly and steadily: 'You got me to come here today because you wanted to pump me-that is the expression, is it not?-yes, topump me on the subject of Mr Howard Raikes.'

Jane Olivera said: 'Who's he, anyway?'

It was not a very successful parry.

Poirot said: 'You do not need to pump me, Mademoiselle. I will tell you what I know-or rather what I guessed. That first day that we came here, Inspector j.a.pp and I, you were startled to see us-alarmed. You thought something had happened to your uncle. Why?'

'Well, he's the kind of man things might happen to. He had a bomb by post one day-after the Herjoslovakian Loan. And he gets lots of threatening letters.'

Poirot went on: 'Chief Inspector j.a.pp told you that a certain dentist, Mr Morley, had been shot. You may recollect your answer. You said: "But that's absurd."'

Jane bit her lip. She said: 'Did I? That was rather absurd of me, wasn't it?'

'It was a curious remark, Mademoiselle. It revealed that you knew of the existence of Mr Morley, that you had rather expected something to happen-not to happen to him-but possibly to happen in his house.'

'You do like telling yourself stories, don't you?'

Poirot paid no attention.

'You had expected-or rather you had feared-that something might happen at Mr Morley's house. You had feared that that something would have happened to your uncle. But if so,you must know something that we did not know . I reflected on the people who had been in Mr Morley's house that day, and I seized at once on the one person who might possibly have a connection with you-which was that young American, Mr Howard Raikes.'

'It's just like a serial, isn't it? What's the next thrilling instalment?'

'I went to see Mr Howard Raikes. He is a dangerous and attractive young man-'

Poirot paused expressively.

Jane said meditatively: 'He is, isn't he?' She smiled. 'All right! You win! I was scared stiff.'

She leaned forward.

'I'm going to tell you things, M. Poirot. You're not the kind one can just string along. I'd rather tell you than have you snooping around finding out. I love that man, Howard Raikes. I'm just crazy about him. My mother brought me over here just to get me away from him. Partly that and partly because she hopes Uncle Alistair might get fond enough of me to leave me his money when he dies.'

She went on: 'Mother is his niece by marriage. Her mother was Rebecca Arnholt's sister. He's my great-uncle-in-law. Only he hasn't got any near relatives of his own, so mother doesn't see why we shouldn't be his residuary legatees. She cadges off him pretty freely too.

'You see, I'm being frank with you, M. Poirot. That's the kind of people we are. Actually we've got plenty of money ourselves-an indecent amount according to Howard's ideas-but we're not in Uncle Alistair's cla.s.s.'

She paused. She struck with one hand fiercely on the arm of her chair.

'How can I make you understand? Everything I've been brought up to believe in, Howard abominates and wants to do away with. And sometimes, you know, I feel like he does. I'm fond of Uncle Alistair, but he gets on my nerves sometimes. He's sostodgy -so British-so cautious and conservative. I feel sometimes that he and his kindought to be swept away, that they are blocking progress-that without them we'd get thingsdone !'

'You are a convert to Mr Raikes' ideas?'

'I am-and I'm not. Howard is-is wilder than most of his crowd. There are people, you know, who-who agree with Howard up to a point. They would be willing to-to try things-if Uncle Alistair andhis crowd would agree. But they never will! They just sit back and shake their heads and say: "We could never risk that." And "It wouldn't be sound economically." And "We've got to consider our responsibility." And "Look at history." But I think that onemustn't look at history. That's looking back. One must lookforward all the time.'

Poirot said gently: 'It is an attractive vision.'

Jane looked at him scornfully.

'You say that too!'

'Perhaps because I am old.Their old men have dreams -only dreams, you see.'

He paused and then asked in a matter-of-fact voice: 'Why did Mr Howard Raikes make that appointment in Queen Charlotte Street?'

'BecauseI wanted him to meet Uncle Alistair and I couldn't see otherwise how to manage it. He'd been so bitter about Uncle Alistair-so full of-well, hate really, that I felt if he could only see him-see what a nice kindly una.s.suming person he was-that-that he would feel differently...I couldn't arrange a meeting here because of mother-she would have spoilt everything.'

Poirot said: 'But after having made that arrangement, you were-afraid.'

Her eyes grew wide and dark. She said: 'Yes. Because-because-sometimes Howard gets carried away. He-he-'

Hercule Poirot said: 'He wants to take a short cut. To exterminate-'

Jane Olivera cried: 'Don't!'

Seven, Eight, Lay them Straight

I.

Time went on. It was over a month since Mr Morley's death, and there was still no news of Miss Sainsbury Seale.

j.a.pp became increasingly wrathful on the subject.

'Dash it all, Poirot, the woman's got to besomewhere .'

'Indubitably,mon cher .'

'Either she'd dead or alive. If she's dead, where's her body? Say, for instance, she committed suicide-'

'Another suicide?'

'Don't let's get back to that.You still say Morley was murdered-Isay it was suicide.'

'You haven't traced the pistol?'

'No, it's a foreign make.'

'That is suggestive, is it not?'

'Not in the way you mean. Morley had been abroad. He went on cruises, he and his sister. Everybody in the British Isles goes on cruises. He may have picked it up abroad. They like to feel life's dangerous.'

He paused and said: 'Don't sidetrack me. I was saying thatif -only if, mind you-that blasted woman committed suicide, if she'd drowned herself for instance, the body would have come ash.o.r.e by now. If she was murdered, the same thing.'

'Not if a weight was attached to her body and it was put into the Thames.'

'From a cellar in Limehouse, I suppose! You're talking like a thriller by a lady novelist.'

'I know-I know. I blush when I say these things!'

'And she was done to death by an international gang of crooks, I suppose?'

Poirot sighed. He said: 'I have been told lately that there really are such things.'

'Who told you so?'

'Mr Reginald Barnes of Castlegarden Road, Ealing.'

'Well, he might know,' said j.a.pp dubiously. 'He dealt with aliens when he was at the Home Office.'

'And you do not agree?'

'It isn't my branch-oh yes, thereare such things-but they're rather futile as a rule.'

There was a momentary silence as Poirot twirled his moustache.

j.a.pp said: 'We've got one or two additional bits of information. She came home from India on the same boat as Amberiotis. But she was second cla.s.s and he was first, so I don't suppose there's anything in that, although one of the waiters at the Savoy thinks she lunched there with him about a week or so before he died.'

'So there may have been a connection between them?'

'There may be-but I can't feel it's likely. I can't see a Missionary lady being mixed up in any funny business.'

'Was Amberiotis mixed up in any "funny business", as you term it?'

'Yes, he was. He was in close touch with some of our Central European friends. Espionage racket.'

'You are sure of that?'

'Yes. Oh, he wasn't doing any of the dirty work himself. We wouldn't have been able to touch him. Organizing and receiving reports-that was his lay.'

j.a.pp paused and then went on: 'But that doesn't help us with the Sainsbury Seale. She wouldn't have been in on that racket.'

'She had lived in India, remember. There was a lot of unrest there last year.'

'Amberiotis and the excellent Miss Sainsbury Seale-I can't feel that they were team-mates.'

'Did you know that Miss Sainsbury Seale was a close friend of the late Mrs Alistair Blunt?'

'Who says so? I don't believe it. Not in the same cla.s.s.'

'She said so.'

'Who'd she say that to?'

'Mr Alistair Blunt.'

'Oh! That sort of thing. He must be used to that lay. Do you mean that Amberiotis was using her that way? It wouldn't work. Blunt would get rid of her with a subscription. He wouldn't ask her down for a week-end or anything of that kind. He's not so unsophisticated as that.'

This was so palpably true that Poirot could only agree. After a minute or two, j.a.pp went on with his summing up of the Sainsbury Seale situation.

'I suppose her body might have been lowered into a tank of acid by a mad scientist-that's another solution they're very fond of in books! But take my word for it, these things are all my eye and Betty Martin. If the womanis dead, her body has just been quietly buried somewhere.'

'But where?'

'Exactly. She disappeared in London. n.o.body's got a garden there-not a proper one. A lonely chicken farm, that's what we want!'

A garden! Poirot's mind flashed suddenly to that neat prim garden in Ealing with its formal beds. How fantastic if a dead woman should be buriedthere ! He told himself not to be absurd.

'And if sheisn't dead,' went on j.a.pp, 'where is she? Over a month now, description published in the Press, circulated all over England-'

'And n.o.body has seen her?'

'Oh yes, practicallyeverybody has seen her! You've no idea how many middle-aged faded-looking women wearing olive green cardigan suits there are. She's been seen on Yorkshire moors, and in Liverpool hotels, in guest houses in Devon and on the beach at Ramsgate! My men have spent their time patiently investigating all these reports-and one and all they've led nowhere, except to getting us in wrong with a number of perfectly respectable middle-aged ladies.'

Poirot clicked his tongue sympathetically.

'And yet,' went on j.a.pp, 'she's a real person all right. I mean, sometimes you come across a dummy, so to speak-someone who just comes to a place and poses as a Miss Spinks-when all the time thereisn't a Miss Spinks. But this woman'sgenuine -she's got a past, a background! We know all about her from her childhood upwards! She's led a perfectly normal, reasonable life-and suddenly, hey presto-vanish!'