and the coconut shy[35] cant be too near the housethe boys are so wild when they throw
And this, said Sir George, is Miss Brewiswho runs us all.
Miss Brewis was seated behind the large silver tea tray.
She was a spare efficient-looking woman of forty-odd, with a brisk pleasant manner.
How do you do, M. Poirot, she said. I do hope you didnt have too crowded a journey? The trains are sometimes too terrible this time of year. Let me give you some tea. Milk? Sugar?
Very little milk, mademoiselle[36], and four lumps of sugar. He added, as Miss Brewis dealt with his request, I see that you are all in a great state of activity.
Yes, indeed. There are always so many last-minute things to see to. And people let one down in the most extra ordinary way nowadays. Over marquees, and tents and chairs and catering equipment. One has to keep on at them. I was on the telephone half the morning.
What about these pegs, Amanda? said Sir George. And the extra putters for the clock golf?
Thats all arranged, Sir George. Mr Benson at the golf club was most kind.
She handed Poirot his cup.
A sandwich, M. Poirot? Those are tomato and these are paté[37]. But perhaps, said Miss Brewis, thinking of the four lumps of sugar, you would rather have a cream cake?
Poirot would rather have a cream cake, and helped himself to a particularly sweet and squelchy one.
Then, balancing it carefully on his saucer, he went and sat down by his hostess. She was still letting the light play over the jewel on her hand, and she looked up at him with a pleased childs smile.
Look, she said. Its pretty, isnt it?
He had been studying her carefully. She was wearing a big coolie-style hat of vivid magenta straw. Beneath it her face showed its pinky reflection on the dead-white surface of her skin. She was heavily made up in an exotic un-English style. Dead-white matt skin; vivid cyclamen lips, mascara applied lavishly to the eyes. Her hair showed beneath the hat, black and smooth, fitting like a velvet cap. There was a languorous un-English beauty about the face. She was a creature of the tropical sun, caught, as it were, by chance in an English drawing-room. But it was the eyes that startled Poirot. They had a childlike, almost vacant, stare.
She had asked her question in a confidential childish way, and it was as though to a child that Poirot answered.
It is a very lovely ring, he said.
She looked pleased.
George gave it to me yesterday, she said, dropping her voice as though she were sharing a secret with him. He gives me lots of things. Hes very kind.
Poirot looked down at the ring again and the hand outstretched on the side of the chair. The nails were very long and varnished a deep puce.
Into his mind a quotation came: They toil not, neither do they spin[38]
He certainly couldnt imagine Lady Stubbs toiling or spinning. And yet he would hardly have described her as a lily of the field. She was a far more artificial product.
This is a beautiful room you have here, Madame, he said, looking round appreciatively.
I suppose it is, said Lady Stubbs vaguely.
Her attention was still on her ring; her head on one side, she watched the green fire in its depths as her hand moved.
She said in a confidential whisper, Dyou see? Its winking at me.
She burst out laughing and Poirot had a sense of sudden shock. It was a loud uncontrolled laugh.
From across the room Sir George said: Hattie.
His voice was quite kind but held a faint admonition. Lady Stubbs stopped laughing.
Poirot said in a conventional manner:
Devonshire is a very lovely county. Do you not think so?
Its nice in the daytime, said Lady Stubbs. When it doesnt rain, she added mournfully. But there arent any nightclubs.
Ah, I see. You like nightclubs?
Oh, yes, said Lady Stubbs fervently.
And why do you like nightclubs so much?
There is music and you dance. And I wear my nicest clothes and bracelets and rings. And all the other women have nice clothes and jewels, but not as nice as mine.
She smiled with enormous satisfaction. Poirot felt a slight pang of pity[39].
And all that amuses you very much?
Yes. I like the casino, too. Why are there not any casinos in England?
I have often wondered, said Poirot, with a sigh. I do not think it would accord with the English character.
She looked at him uncomprehendingly. Then she bent slightly towards him.
I won sixty thousand francs at Monte Carlo once. I put it on number twenty-seven and it came up.
That must have been very exciting, Madame.
Oh, it was. George gives me money to play withbut usually I lose it.
She looked disconsolate.
That is sad.
Oh, it does not really matter. George is very rich. It is nice to be rich, dont you think so?
Very nice, said Poirot gently.
Perhaps, if I was not rich, I should look like Amanda. Her gaze went to Miss Brewis at the tea table and studied her dispassionately. She is very ugly, dont you think?
Miss Brewis looked up at that moment and across to where they were sitting. Lady Stubbs had not spoken loudly, but Poirot wondered whether Amanda Brewis had heard.
As he withdrew his gaze, his eyes met those of Captain Warburton. The Captains glance was ironic and amused.
Poirot endeavoured to change the subject.
Have you been very busy preparing for the fête? he asked.
Hattie Stubbs shook her head.
Oh, no, I think it is all very boringvery stupid. There are servants and gardeners. Why should not they make the preparations?
Oh, my dear. It was Mrs Folliat who spoke. She had come to sit on the sofa nearby. Those are the ideas you were brought up with on your island estates. But life isnt like that in England these days. I wish it were. She sighed. Nowadays one has to do nearly everything oneself.
Lady Stubbs shrugged her shoulders.
I think it is stupid. What is the good of being rich if one has to do everything oneself?
Some people find it fun, said Mrs Folliat, smiling at her. I do really. Not all things, but some. I like gardening myself and I like preparing for a festivity like this one tomorrow.
It will be like a party? asked Lady Stubbs hopefully.
Just like a partywith lots and lots of people.
Will it be like Ascot[40]? With big hats and everyone very chic?
Well, not quite like Ascot, said Mrs Folliat. She added gently, But you must try and enjoy country things, Hattie. You should have helped us this morning, instead of staying in bed and not getting up until teatime.
I had a headache, said Hattie sulkily. Then her mood changed and she smiled affectionately at Mrs Folliat.
But I will be good tomorrow. I will do everything you tell me.
Thats very sweet of you, dear.
Ive got a new dress to wear. It came this morning. Come upstairs with me and look at it.
Mrs Folliat hesitated. Lady Stubbs rose to her feet and said insistently:
You must come. Please. It is a lovely dress. Come now!
Oh, very well. Mrs Folliat gave a half-laugh and rose. As she went out of the room, her small figure following Hatties tall one, Poirot saw her face and was quite startled at the weariness on it which had replaced her smiling composure. It was as though, relaxed and off her guard for a moment, she no longer bothered to keep up the social mask. And yetit seemed more than that. Perhaps she was suffering from some disease about which, like many women, she never spoke. She was not a person, he thought, who would care to invite pity or sympathy.
Captain Warburton dropped down in the chair Hattie Stubbs had just vacated. He, too, looked at the door through which the two women had just passed, but it was not of the older woman that he spoke. Instead he drawled, with a slight grin:
Beautiful creature, isnt she? He observed with the tail of his eye Sir Georges exit through a French window with Mrs Masterton and Mrs Oliver in tow. Bowled over old George Stubbs all right. Nothings too good for her! Jewels, mink, all the rest of it. Whether he realizes shes a bit wanting in the top storey[41], Ive never discovered. Probably thinks it doesnt matter. After all, these financial johnnies dont ask for intellectual companionship.