Whoever that wicked murderer was, it's one who came from outside. The police never got on to anyone, no car was seen near there and there was nothing to it and they never got any further. But all the same, I think one ought to look about for somebody perhaps who'd known them in Malaya or abroad or somewhere else, or even when they were first living at Bournemouth. One never knows." "What did your husband think about it?" said Mrs. Oliver.

"He wouldn't have known as much about them as you would, of course, but still he might have heard a lot." "Oh, he heard a lot of talk, of course. In the George and Flag, of an evening, you know. People saying all sorts of things. Said as she drank and that cases of empty bottles had been taken out of the house. Absolutely untrue, that was, I know for a fact. And there was a nephew as used to come and see them sometimes. Got into trouble with the police in some way, he did, but I don't think there was anything in that. The police didn't, either. Anyway, it wasn't at that time." "There was no one else really living in the house, was there, except the General and Lady Ravenscroft?" "Well, she had a sister as used to come sometimes, Lady Ravenscroft did. She was a half-sister, I think. Something like that. Looked rather like Lady Ravenscroft but not very goodlooking and a year or two older, I should say. She made a bit of trouble between them, I always used to think, when she came for a visit. She was one of those who likes stirring things up, if you know what I mean. just said things to annoy people." •§r "Was Lady Ravenscroft fond of her?" "Well, if you ask me, I don't think she was really. I think the sister more or less wished herself on to them sometimes and she didn't like not to have her, but I think she found it pretty trying to have her there. The General quite liked her because she played cards well. Played chess and things with him and he enjoyed that. And she was an amusing woman in a way. Mrs. Jerryboy or something like that, her name was.

She was a widow, I think. Used to borrow money from them, I think, too." "Did you like her?" "Well, if you don't mind my saying so, ma'am, no, I didn't like her. I disliked her very much. I thought she was one of those troublemakers, you know. But she hadn't been down for some time before the tragedy happened. I don't really remember very much what she was like. She had a son as came with her once or twice. Didn't like him very much. Shifty, I thought." "Well," said Mrs. Oliver. "I suppose nobody will really ever know the truth. Not now. Not after all this time. I saw my goddaughter the other day." "Did you now, ma'am. I'd be interested to hear about Miss Celia. How is she? All right?" "Yes. She seems quite all right. I think she's thinking perhaps of getting married. At any rate she's got a-" "Got a steady boy friend, has she?" said Mrs. Buckle. "Ah, well, we've all got that. Not that we all marry the first one we settle on. Just as well if you don't, nine times out of ten." "You don't know a Mrs. Burton-Cox, do you?" asked Mrs.

Oliver.

"Burton-Cox? I seem to know that name. No, I don't think so. Wasn't living down here or come to stay with them or anything? No, not that I remember. Yet I did hear something.

Some old friend of General Ravenscroft, I think, which he'd known in India. But I don't know." She shook her head.

"Well," said Mrs. Oliver, "I mustn't stay gossiping with you any longer. It's been so nice to see you and Marlene."

"A telephone call for you," said Hercule Poirot's manservant George. "From Mrs. Oliver." "Ah, yes, George. And what had she to say?" "She wondered if she could come and see you this evening, sir, after dinner?" "That would be admirable," said Poirot. "Admirable. I have had a tiring day. It will be a stimulating experience to see Mrs. Oliver. She is always entertaining as well as being highly unexpected in the things she says. Did she mention elephants, by the way?" "Elephants, sir? No, I do not think so." "Ah. Then it would seem perhaps that the elephants have been disappointing." George looked at his master rather doubtfully. There were times when he did not quite understand the relevance of Poirot's remarks.

"Ring her back," said Hercule Poirot. "Tell her I shall be delighted to receive her." George went away to carry out this order, and returned to say that Mrs. Oliver would be there about quarter to nine.

"Coffee," said Poirot. "Let coffee be prepared and some petits fours. I rather think I ordered some in lately from Fortnum and Mason." "A liqueur of any kind, sir?" "No, I think not. I myself will have some Sirop de Cassis." "Yes, sir." Mrs. Oliver arrived exactly on time. Poirot greeted her with every sign of pleasure.

"And how are you, chere madame?" "Exhausted," said Mrs. Oliver, She sank down into the armchair that Poirot indicated.

"Completely exhausted." "Ah. Qui va a la chasse-oh, I cannot remember the saying." "I remember it," said Mrs. Oliver. "I learned it as a child. 'Qui va a la chasse perd sa place.' " "That, I am sure, is not applicable to the chase you have been conducting. I am referring to the pursuit of elephants, unless that was merely a figure of speech." "Not at all," said Mrs. Oliver. "I have been pursuing elephants madly. Here, there and everywhere. The amount of petrol I have used, the amount of trains I have taken, the amount of letters I've written, the amount of telegrams I've sent-you wouldn't believe how exhausting it all is." "Then repose yourself. Have some coffee." "Nice, strong, black coffee-yes, I will. Just what I want." "Did you, may I ask, get any results?" "Plenty of results," said Mrs. Oliver. "The trouble is, I don't know whether any of them are any use." "You learned facts, however?" "No. Not really. I learned things that people told me were facts, but I strongly doubt myself whether any of them were facts." "They were heresay?" "No. They were what I said they would be. They were memories. Lots of people who had memories. The trouble is, when you remember things, you don't always remember them right, do you?" "No. But they are still what you might describe perhaps as results. Is not that so?" "And what have you done?" said Mrs. Oliver.

"You are always so stern, madame," said Poirot. "You demand that I run about, that I also do things." "Well, have you run about?" "I have not run about, but I have had a few consultations with others of my own profession." "It sounds far more peaceful than what I have been doing," said Mrs. Oliver. "Oh, this coffee is nice. It's really strong.

You wouldn't believe how tired I am. And how muddled." "Come, come. Let us have good expectancy. You have got things. You have got something, I think." "I've got a lot of different suggestions and stories. I don't know whether any of them are true." "They could be not true, but still be of use," said Poirot.

"Well, I know what you mean," said Mrs. Oliver, "and that's what I think too. I mean, that's what I thought when I went about it. When people remember something and tell you about it-I mean, it's often not quite actually what occurred, but it's what they themselves thought occurred." "But they must have had something on which to base it," said Poirot.

"I've brought you a list of a kind," said Mrs. Oliver. "I don't need to go into details of where I went or what I said or why, I went out deliberately for-well, information one couldn't perhaps get from anybody in this country now. But it's all from people who knew something about the Ravenscrofts, even if they hadn't known them very well." "News from foreign places, do you mean?" "Quite a lot of them were from foreign places. Other people who knew them here rather slightly or from people whose aunts or cousins or friends knew them long ago." "And each one that you've noted down had some story to tell-some reference to the tragedy or to people involved?" "That's the idea," said Mrs. Oliver. "I'll tell you roughly, shall I?" "Yes. Have a petit four." "Thank you," said Mrs. Oliver.