"I've done my best, Mr. Poirot, to write down these things in the proper order but I wouldn't like to say that it's a hundred percent accurate now. You see, it's very difficult when you look back over a period of months to remember just when this, that or the other happened." "I am deeply grateful to you, Madame. And how is Mrs. Nicoletis?" "I've given her a sedative and I hope she's asleep now. She made a terrible fuss over the search warrant. She refused to open the cupboard in her room and the Inspector broke it open and quantities of empty bottles tumbled out." "Ah," said Poirot, making a tactful sound.

"Which really explains quite a lot of things," said Mrs. Hubbard. "I really can't imagine why I didn't think of that before, having seen as much of drink as I have out in Singapore. But all that, I'm sure, isn't what interests you." "Everything interests me," said Poirot.

He sat down and studied the piece of paper that Mrs. Hubbard had handed to him.

"Ah!" he said, after a moment or two. "I see that now the rucksack heads the list." "Yes. It wasn't a very important thing, but I do remember now, definitely, that it happened before the jewelry and those sort of things began to disappear. It was all rather mixed up with some trouble we had about one of the coloured students. He'd left a day or two before this happened and I remembered thinking that it might have been a revengeful act on his part before he went. There'd been-well-a little trouble." "Ah! Geronimo has recounted to me something like that. You had, I believe, the police here? Is that right?" "Yes. It seems they had an enquiry from Sheffield or Birmingham or somewhere. It had all been rather a scandal. L equals oral earnings and all that sort of thing.

He was had up about it in court later. Actually, he'd only stayed here about three or four days.

Then I didn't like his behaviour, the way he was carrying on, so I told him that his room was engaged and that he'd have to go. I wasn't really at all surprised when the police called. Of course, I couldn't tell them where he'd gone to, but they got on his track all right." "And it was after that that you found the rucksack?" "Yes, I think so-it's hard to remember. You see, Len Bateson was going off on a hitch-hike and he couldn't find his rucksack anywhere and he created a terrible fuss about it - and everyone did a lot of searching and at last Geronimo found it shoved behind the boiler all cut to ribbons. Such an odd thing to happen. So curious and pointless, M. Poirot." "Yes," Poirot agreed. "Curious and pointless." He remained thoughtful for a moment.

"And it was on that same day, the day that the police came to enquire about this African student, that some electric bulbs disappeared-or so Geronimo tells me. Was it that day?" "WeII, I really can't remember. Yes, yes, I think you're right, because I remember coming downstairs with the police inspector and going into the Common Room with him and there were candles there. We wanted to ask Akibombo' whether this other young man had spoken to him at an or told him where he was going to stay." "Who else was in the Common Room?" "Oh, I think most of the students had come back by that time. It was in the evening, you know, just about six o'clock. I asked Geronimo about the bulbs and he said they'd been taken out. I asked him why he hadn't replaced them and he said we were right out of electric bulbs. I was rather annoyed as it seemed such a silly pointless joke. I thought of it as a joke, not as stealing, but I was surp'n'sed that we had no more electric bulbs because we usually keep quite a good supply in stock. Still, I didn't take it seriously, Mr.

Poirot, not at that time." "The bulbs and the rucksack," said Poirot thoughtfully.

"But it still seems to me possible," said Mrs.

Hubhard, "that those two things have no connection with poor little Celia's peccadilloes. You remember she denied very earnestly that she'd even touched the racksack at all." "Yes, yes, that is true. How soon after this did the thefts begin?" "Oh dear, Mr. Poirot, you've no idea how difficult all this is to remember. Let me see-that was March, no, February-the end of February. Yes, yes, I think Genevieve said she'd missed her bracelet about a week after that.

Yes, between the 20th and 25th of February." "And after that the thefts went on fairly continuously?" "Yes." "And this rucksack was Len Bateson's?" "Yes." "And he was very annoyed about it?" "Well, you mustn't go by that, Mr. Poirot," said Mrs. Hubbard, smiling a little. "Len Bateson is that kind of boy, you know.

Warmhearted, generous, kind to a fault, but one of those fiery, outspoken tempers." "What was it, this rucksack-something special?" "Oh no, it was just the ordinary kind." "Could you show me one like it?" "WeEvery, yes, of course. Colin's got one, I think, just like it. So has Nigel-in fact Len's got one again now because he had to go and buy another. The students usually buy them at the shop at the end of the road.

It's a very good place for all kinds of camping equipment and hikers" outfits. Shorts, sleeping bags, all that sort of thing. And very cheap-much cheaper than any of the big stores." "If I could just see one of these rucksacks, Madame?" Mrs. Hubbard obligingly led him to Colin Mcationabb's room. Colin himself was not there, but Mrs. Hubbard opened the wardrobe, stooped, and picked up a rucksack which she held out to Poirot. was There you are, Mr. Poirot. That's exactly like the one that was missing and that we found all cut up." "It would take some cutting," murmured Poirot, as he fingered the rucksack appreciatively. "One could not snip at this with a little pair of embroidery scissors." "Oh no, it wasn't what you'd expect a-well, a girl to do, for instance. There must have been a certain amount of strength involved, I should say.

Strength and-well-malice, you know." was I know, yes, I know. It is not pleasant.

Not pleasant to think about." "Then, when later that scarf of Valerie's was found, also slashed to pieces, well, it did look-what shall I say-unbalanced." "Ah," said Poirot. "But I think there you are wrong, Madame. I do not think there is anything unbalanced about this business. I think it has aim and purpose and shall we say, method." "Well, I daresay you know more about these things, Mr. Poirot, than I do," said Mrs.

Hubbard. "All I can say is, I don't like it.

As far as I can judge we've got a very nice lot of students here and it would distress me very much to think that one of them is-well, not what I'd like to think he or she is." Poirot had wandered over to the window. He opened it and stepped out on to the old-fashioned balcony.

The room looked out over the back of the house.

Below was a small, sooty garden. can' It is more quiet here than at the front, I expect?" he said.

"In a way. But Hickory Road isn't really a noisy road. And facing this way you get all the cats at night. Yowling, you know, and knocking the lids off the dust bins." Poirot looked down at four large battered ash cans and other assorted back yard junk.

"Where is the boiler house?" "That's the door to it, down there next to the coal house." "see." He gazed down speculatively.

"Who else has rooms facing this way?" so' Nigel Chapman and Len Bateson have the next room to this." "And beyond them?" "Then it's the next house-and the girls' rooms.

First the room Celia had and beyond it Elizabeth Johnston's and then Patricia Lane's.

Valerie and Jean Tomlinson look out to the front." Poirot nodded and came back into the room.

"He is neat, this young man," he murmured, looking round him appreciatively.

"Yes, Colin's room is always very tidy. Some of the boys live in a terrible mess," said Mrs.

Hubbard. "You should see Len Bateson's room." She added indulgently, "But he is a nice boy, Mr. Poirot." "You say that these rucksacks are bought at the shop at the end of the road?" "Yes." "What is the name of that shop?" "Now really, Mr. Poirot, when you ask me like that I can't remember. Mabberley, I tlnk. Or else Kelso.