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II. The Tragedy at Marsdon Manor

           Alas,hewasonlytooright!”

           Tearsinhereyes,shebadeusadignifiedfarewell.Poirotmadeacharacteristicgestureaswewalkeddownthedrivetogether.

           “Ehbien,thatisthat!BacktoLondon,myfriend,thereappearstobenomouseinthismouse-hole.Andyet——”

           “Yetwhat?”

           “Aslightdiscrepancy,thatisall!Younoticedit?Youdidnot?Still,lifeisfullofdiscrepancies,andassuredlythemancannothavetakenhisownlife—thereisnopoisonthatwouldfillhismouthwithblood.No,no,Imustresignmyselftothefactthatallhereisclearandabove-board—butwhoisthis?”

           Atallyoungmanwasstridingupthedrivetowardsus.Hepasseduswithoutmakinganysign,butInotedthathewasnotill-looking,withalean,deeplybronzedfacethatspokeoflifeinatropicclime.Agardenerwhowassweepingupleaveshadpausedforaminuteinhistask,andPoirotranquicklyuptohim.

           “Tellme,Iprayyou,whoisthatgentleman?Doyouknowhim?”

           “Idon’trememberhisname,sir,thoughIdidhearit.Hewasstayingdownherelastweekforanight.Tuesday,itwas.”

           “Quick,monami,letusfollowhim.”

           Wehastenedupthedriveaftertheretreatingfigure.Aglimpseofablack-robedfigureontheterraceatthesideofthehouse,andourquarryswervedandweafterhim,sothatwewerewitnessesofthemeeting.

           Mrs.Maltraversalmoststaggeredwhereshestood,andherfaceblanchednoticeably.

           “You,”shegasped.“Ithoughtyouwereonthesea—onyourwaytoEastAfrica?”

           “Igotsomenewsfrommylawyersthatdetainedme,”explainedtheyoungman.

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