"Oh that-nothing-notlng really-just, there have been some silly practical jokes lately-I thought Mrs. Hubbard-But really, it was silly of me. I didn't mean anything." Poirot did not press her. He turned away to Mrs. Hubbard and was presently engaged in a three cornered conversation with her and with Nigel Chapman who introduced the controversial challenge that crime was a form of creative art-and that the misfits of society were really the police who only entered that profession because of their secret sadism. Poirot was amused to note that the anxious looking young woman in spectacles of about thirty-five who sat beside him tried desperately to explain away his remarks as fast as he made them. Nigel, however, took absolutely no notice of her.

Mrs. Hubbard looked benignantly amused.

"All you young people nowadays think of nothing but polities and psychology," she said. "When I was a girl we were much more lighthearted. We danced.

If you rolled back the carpet in the Common Room there's quite a good floor, and you could dance to the wireless, but you never do." Celia laughed and said with a tinge of malice, "But you used to dance, Nigel. I've danced with you myself once, though I don't expect you to remember." "You've danced with me," said Nigel incredulously.

"Where?" "At Cambridge-in May Week." "Oh, May Week!" Nigel waved away the follies of youth. "One goes through that adolescent phase. Mercifully it soon passes." his Nigel was clearly not much more than twenty-five now. Poirot concealed a smile in his mustache.

Patricia Lane said earnestly, "You see, Mrs. Hubbard, there is so much study to be done.

With lectures to attend and one's notes to write up, there's really no time for anything but what is really worth while." "Well, my dear, one's only young once," said Mrs. Hubbard.

A chocolate pudding succeeded the spaghetti and afterwards they all went into the Common Room, and helped themselves to coffee from an urnthat stood on a table.

Poirot was then invited to begin his discourse. The two Turks politely excused themselves. The rest seated themselves and looked expectant.

Poirot rose to his feet and spoke with his usual aplomb. The sound of his own voice was always pleasant to him, and he spoke for three quarters of an hour in a light and amusing fashion, recallin, those of his experiences that lent themselves to an agreeable exaggeration. If he managed to suggest, in a subtle fashion, that he was, perhaps, something of a mountebank, it was not too obviously contrived.

"And so, you see," he finished, "I say to this City gentleman that I am reminded of a soap manufacturer I knew in L16ge who poisoned his wife in order to marry a beautiful blond secretary. I say it very lightly, but at once I get a reaction. He presses upon me the stolen money I had just recovered for him. He goes pale and there is fear in his eyes. 'I will give this money," I say, "to a deserving charity." 'Do anything you like with it," he says. And I say to him then, and I say it very significantly, "It will be advisable, Monsieur, to be very careful." He nods, speechless, and as I go out, I see that he wipes his forehead. He has had the big fright, and H have saved his life. For though he is infatuated with his blond secretary he will not now try and poison his stupid and disagreeable wife.

Prevention, always, is betaer than cure. We want to prevent murders-not wait until they have been committed." He bowed and spread out his hands.

"There, I have wearied you long enough." The students clapped him vigorously. Poirot bowed.

And then, as he was about to sit down, Colin Mcationabb took his pipe from between his teeth and observed, "And now, perhaps, you'll talk about what you're really here for!" There was a momentary silence and then Patricia said reproachfully, "Colin." "Well, we can all guess, can't we?" He looked round scornfully. "M. Poirot's given us a very amusing little talk, but that's not what he came for. He's on the job. You don't really think, Mr. Poirot, that we're not wise to that?" "You speak for yourself, Colin," said Sally.

"It's true, isn't it?" said Colin.

Again Poirot spread out his hands in a graceful acknowledging gesture.

"I will admit," he said, "that my kind hostess has confided to me that certain events have caused herworry." Len Bateson got up, his face heavy and truculent.

"Look here," he said, "what's all this? Has this been planted on us?" "Have you really only just tumbled to that, Bateson?" asked Nigel sweetly.

Celia gave a frightened gasp and said, "Then I was right!" Mrs. Hubbard spoke with decisive authority.

"I asked Mr. Poirot to give us a talk, but I also wanted to ask him his advice about various things that have happened lately. Something's got to be done and it seems to me that the only other alternative is-the police." At once a violent altercation broke out.

Genevieve burst into heated French. "It was a disgrace, shameful, to go to the police!" Other voices chimed in, for or against. In a final lull Leonard Bateson's voice was raised with decision.

"Let's hear what Mr. Poirot has to say about our trouble." Mrs. Hubbard said, "I've given Mr. Poirot all the facts.

If he wants to ask any questions, I'm sure none of you will object." Poirot bowed to her.

"Thank you." With the air of a conjurer he brought out a pair of evening shoes and handed them to Sally Finch.

"Your shoes, Mademoiselle?"

"Why-yes-both of them? Where did the missing one come from?" "From the Lost Property Office at Baker Street Station." "But what made you think it might be there, M.Poirot?"

"A very simple process of deduction. Someone takes a shoe from your room. Why? Not to wear and not to sell. And since the house will be searched by everyone to try and find it, then the shoe must be got out of the house, or destroyed. But it is not so easy to destroy a shoe. The easiest way is to take it in a bus or train in a parcel in the rush hour and leave it thrust down under a seat. That was my first guess and it proved right-so I knew that I was on safe groundthe shoe was taken, as your poet says, 'ffannoy, because he knows it teases." his Valerie gave a short laugh.

"That points to you, Nigel, my love, with an unerring finger." Nigel said, smirking a little, "If the shoe fits, wear it." "Nonsense," said Sally. "Nigel didn't take my shoe." "Of course he didn't," said Patricia angrily. "It's the most absurd idea." "I don't know about absurd," said Nigel.

"Actually I didn't do anything of the kind-ag no doubt we shall all say." It was as thou hid Poirot had been waiting for just those words as an actor waits for his cue. His eyes rested thoughtfully on Len Bateson's flushed face, then they swept inquiringly over the rest of the students.

He said, using his hands in a deliberately foreign gesture,,'my position is delicate. I am a guest here. I have come at the invitation of Mrs.

Hubbard-to spend a pleasant evening, that is all.

And also, of course, to return a very charming pair of evening shoes to Mademoiselle. For anything further-was he paused. "Monsieur-Bateson? yes, Bateson-has asked me to say what I myself think of this-trouble. But it would be an impertinence for me to speak unless I were invited so to do not by one person alone, but by you all." Mr. Akibombo was seen to nod his black curled head in vigorous asseveration.

"That is very correct procedure, yes," he said. "True democratic proceeding is to put matter to the voting of all present." The voice of Sally Finch rose impatiently.

"Oh, shucks," she said. "This is a kind of party, all friends together. Let's hear what Mr.

Poirot advises without any more fuss." "I couldn't agree with you more, Sally," said Nigel.

Poirot bowed his head. c" Very well," he said. "Since you all ask me this question, I reply that my advice is quite simple. Mrs. Hubbard-or Mrs. Nicoletis rather-should call in the police at once. No time should be lost." THERE WAS NO DOUBT that Poirot's statement was unexpected. It caused not a ripple of protest or comment, but a sudden and uncomfortable silence.