Unformatted text preview: e free to marry his
secretary. . . . Yes -- the resemblance is
very remarkable. ..."
A faint sound came from Sir Joseph's
lips -- they had gone a queer blue colour.
All the ruddy hue had faded from his
cheeks. His eyes, starting out of his head, stared at Poirot. He slipped down a little
in his chair. "Then, with a shaking hand, he fumbled
in his pocket. He drew out the cheque and
tore it into pieces.
"That's washed out -- see ? Consider it
as your fee."
"Oh but. Sir Joseph, my fee would not
have been as large as that." "That's all right. You keep it." "I shall send it to a deserving charity."
"Send it anywhere you damn well like."
Poirot leaned forward. He said:
"I think I need hardly point out. Sir
Joseph, that in your position, you would
do well to be exceedingly careful."
Sir Joseph said, his voice almost inaudible: "You needn't worry. I shall be careful
Hercule Poirot left the house. As he
went down the steps he said to himself:
"So -- / was right."
Lady Hoggin said to her husband:
"Funny, this tonic tastes quite different. LOH5
55 It hasn't got that bitter taste any more. I
wonder why ?"
Sir Joseph growled:
"Chemist. Careless fellows. Make things
up differently different times."
Lady Hoggin said doubtfully:
cc! suppose that must be it."
"Of course it is. What else could it
"Has the man found out anything about
Shan Tung ?"
"Yes. He got me my money back all
"Who was it ?"
"He didn't say. Very close fellow,
Hercule Poirot. But you needn't worry."
"He's a funny little man, isn't he ?"
Sir Joseph gave a slight shiver and threw
a sideways glance upwards as though he
felt the invisible presence of Hercule
Poirot behind his right shoulder. He had
an idea that he would always feel it there.
"He's a damned clever little devil!"
And he thought to himself: "Greta can go hang! J'm not going to
risk my neck for any damned platinum
Amy Carnaby gazed down incredulously
at the cheque for two hundred
pounds. She cried:
"Emily! Emily I Listen to this.
^Dear Miss Carnaby,
Allow me to enclose a
contribution to your very deserving Fund
before it is finally wound up.
Yours very truly, Hercule Poirot.9 "
"Amy," said Emily Carnaby, "you've
been incredibly lucky. Think where you
might be now."
"Wormwood Scrubbs -- or is it Holloway?"
murmured Amy Carnaby. "But
that's all over now--isn't it, Augustus?
No more walks to the Park with mother
or mother's friends and a little pair of
A far away wistfumess came into her eyes. She sighed.
"Dear Augustus! It seems a pity. He's
so clever. . . . One can teach him anything.
THE LERNEAN HYDRA
ITERCULE POIROT looked en--|
couragingly at the man seated opJ^positehim.
Charles Oldfield was a man of
perhaps forty. He had fair hair sligh...
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