Hercule Poirot looked up. His eyes met her confident grey ones. He said:

‘Oh, yes-I agree with that which you have just this minute said. Arlena Marshall herself is the best, the only clue, to her own death.’

Miss Brewster said sharply:

‘Well, then!’ 

She stood there, an erect sturdy figure, her cool self-confident glance going from one man to the other.

Colonel Weston said:

‘You may be sure, Miss Brewster, that any clue there may be in Mrs Marshall’s past life will not be overlooked.’

Emily Brewster went out.

Inspector Colgate shifted his position at the table. He said in a thoughtful voice:

‘She’s a determined one, she is. And she’d got her knife into the dead lady, proper, she had.’

He stopped a minute and said reflectively:

‘It’s a pity in a way that she’s got a cast-iron alibi for the whole morning. Did you notice her hands, sir? As big as a man’s. And she’s a hefty woman-as strong and stronger than many a man, I’d say…’

He paused again. His glance at Poirot was almost pleading.

‘And you say she never left the beach this morning, M. Poirot?’

Slowly Poirot shook his head. He said:

‘My dear Inspector, she came down to the beach before Mrs Marshall could have reached Pixy Cove and she was within my sight until she set off with Mr Redfern in the boat.’

Inspector Colgate said gloomily:

‘Then that washes her out.’

He seemed upset about it.

As always, Hercule Poirot felt a keen sense of pleasure at the sight of Rosamund Darnley.

Even to a bare police inquiry into the ugly facts of murder she brought a distinction of her own.

She sat down opposite Colonel Weston and turned a grave and intelligent face to him.

She said:

‘You want my name and address? Rosamund Anne Darnley. I carry on a dressmaing business under the name of Rose Mond Ltd at 622 Brook Street.’

‘Thank you, Miss Darnley. Now can you tell us anything that may help us?’

‘I don’t really think I can.’

‘Your own movements-’

‘I had breakfast about nine-thirty. Then I went up to my room and collected some books and my sunshade and went out to Sunny Ledge. That must have been about twenty-five past ten. I came back to the hotel about ten minutes to twelve, went up and got my tennis racquet and went out to the tennis courts, where I played tennis until lunch-time.’

‘You were in the cliff recess, called by the hotel Sunny Ledge, from about half-past ten until ten minutes to twelve?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you see Mrs Marshall at all this morning?’

‘No.’

‘Did you see her from the cliff as she paddled her float round to Pixy Cove?’

‘No, she must have gone by before I got there.’

‘Did you notice anyone on a float or in a boat at all this morning?’

‘No, I don’t think I did. You see, I was reading. Of course I looked up from my book from time to time, but as it happened the sea was quite bare each time I did so.’

‘You didn’t even notice Mr Redfern and Miss Brewster when they went round?’

‘No.’

‘You were, I think, acquainted with Mr Marshall?’

‘Captain Marshall is an old family friend. His family and mine lived next door to each other. I had not seen him, however, for a good many years-it must be something like twelve years.’

‘And Mrs Marshall?’ 

‘I’d never exchanged half a dozen words with her until I met her here.’

‘Were Captain and Mrs Marshall, as far as you knew, on good terms with each other?’

‘On perfectly good terms, I should say.’

‘Was Captain Marshall very devoted to his wife?’

Rosamund said:

‘He may have been. I can’t really tell you anything about that. Captain Marshall is rather old-fashioned-he hasn’t got the modern habit of shouting matrimonial woes upon the housetop.’

‘Did you like Mrs Marshall, Miss Darnley?’

‘No.’

The monosyllable came quietly and evenly. It sounded what it was-a simple statement of fact.

‘Why was that?’

A half smile came to Rosamund’s lips. She said:

‘Surely you’ve discovered that Arlena Marshall was not popular with her own sex? She was bored to death with women and showed it. Nevertheless I should like to have had the dressing of her. She had a great gift for clothes. Her clothes were always just right and she wore them well. I should like to have had her as a client.’

‘She spent a good deal on clothes?’

‘She must have done. But then she had money of her own and of course Captain Marshall is quite well off.’

‘Did you ever hear or did it ever occur to you that Mrs Marshall was being blackmailed, Miss Darnley?’

A look of intense astonishment came over Rosamund Darnley’s expressive face.

She said:

‘Blackmailed? Arlena?’

‘The idea seems to surprise you.’

‘Well, yes, it does rather. It seems so incongruous.’

‘But surely it is possible?’

‘Everything’s possible, isn’t it? The world soon teaches one that. But I wondered what any one could blackmail Arlena about?’

‘There are certain things, I suppose, that Mrs Marshall might be anxious should not come to her husband’s ears?’

‘We-ll, yes.’

She explained the doubt in her voice by saying with a half smile:

‘I sound sceptical, but then, you see, Arlena was rather notorious in her conduct. She never made much of a pose of respectability.’

‘You think, then, that her husband was aware of her-intimacies with other people?’

There was a pause. Rosamund was frowning. She spoke at last in a slow, reluctant voice. She said:

‘You know, I don’t really know what to think. I’ve always assumed that Kenneth Marshall accepted his wife, quite frankly, for what she was. That he had no illusions about her. But it may not be so.’

‘He may have believed in her absolutely?’

Rosamund said with semi-exasperation:

‘Men are such fools. And Kenneth Marshall is unworldly under his sophisticated manner. Hemay have believed in her blindly. He may have thought she was just-admired.’

‘And you know of no one-that is, you have heard of no one who was likely to have had a grudge against Mrs Marshall?’

Rosamund Darnley smiled. She said:

‘Only resentful wives. And I presume, since she was strangled, that it was a man who killed her.’

‘Yes.’

Rosamund said thoughtfully:

‘No, I can’t think of any one. But then I probably shouldn’t know. You’ll have to ask someone in her own intimate set.’

‘Thank you, Miss Darnley.’

Rosamund turned a little in her chair. She said:

‘Hasn’t M. Poirot any questions to ask?’

Her faintly ironic smile flashed out at him.

Hercule Poirot smiled and shook his head.

He said:

‘I can think of nothing.’

Rosamund Darnley got up and went out.