What nationality is she? Poirot asked curiously.
Looks South American, I always think. But I believe she comes from the West Indies[42]. One of those islands with sugar and rum and all that. One of the old families therea creole[43], I dont mean a half-caste. All very intermarried, I believe, on these islands. Accounts for the mental deficiency.
Young Mrs Legge came over to join them.
Look here, Jim, she said, youve got to be on my side. That tents got to be where we all decidedon the far side of the lawn backing on the rhododendrons. Its the only possible place.
Ma Masterton[44] doesnt think so.
Well, youve got to talk her out of it.
He gave her his foxy smile.
Mrs Mastertons my boss.
Wilfred Mastertons your boss. Hes the M.P.[45]
I dare say, but she should be. Shes the one who wears the pants[46]and dont I know it.
Sir George re-entered the window.
Oh, there you are, Sally, he said. We need you. You wouldnt think everyone could get het up over who butters the buns and who raffles a cake, and why the garden produce stall is where the fancy woollens was promised it should be. Wheres Amy Folliat? She can deal with these peopleabout the only person who can.
She went upstairs with Hattie.
Oh, did she?
Sir George looked round in a vaguely helpless manner and Miss Brewis jumped up from where she was writing tickets, and said, Ill fetch her for you, Sir George.
Thank you, Amanda.
Miss Brewis went out of the room.
Must get hold of some more wire fencing, murmured Sir George.
For the fête?
No, no. To put up where we adjoin Hoodown Park in the woods. The old stuffs rotted away, and thats where they get through.
Who get through?
Trespassers! ejaculated Sir George.
Sally Legge said amusedly:
You sound like Betsy Trotwood[47] campaigning against donkeys.
Betsy Trotwood? Whos she? asked Sir George simply.
Dickens.
Oh, Dickens. I read the Pickwick Papers once. Not bad. Not bad at allsurprised me. But, seriously, trespassers are a menace since theyve started this Youth Hostel tomfoolery. They come out at you from everywhere wearing the most incredible shirtsboy this morning had one all covered with crawling turtles and thingsmade me think Id been hitting the bottle or something. Half of them cant speak Englishjust gibber at you He mimicked: Oh, pleesyes, haf youtell meiss way to ferry? I say no, it isnt, roar at them, and send them back where theyve come from, but half the time they just blink and stare and dont understand. And the girls giggle. All kinds of nationalities, Italian, Yugoslavian, Dutch, FinnishEskimos I shouldnt be surprised! Half of them communists, I shouldnt wonder, he ended darkly.
Come now, George, dont get started on communists, said Mrs Legge. Ill come and help you deal with the rabid women.
She led him out of the window and called over her shoulder: Come on, Jim. Come and be torn to pieces in a good cause.
All right, but I want to put M. Poirot in the picture about the Murder Hunt since hes going to present the prizes.
You can do that presently.
I will await you here, said Poirot agreeably.
In the ensuing silence, Alec Legge stretched himself out in his chair and sighed.
Women! he said. Like a swarm of bees.
He turned his head to look out of the window.
And whats it all about? Some silly garden fête that doesnt matter to anyone.
But obviously, Poirot pointed out, there are those to whom it does matter.
Why cant people have some sense? Why cant they think? Think of the mess the whole world has got itself into. Dont they realize that the inhabitants of the globe are busy committing suicide?
Poirot judged rightly that he was not intended to reply to this question. He merely shook his head doubtfully.
Unless we can do something before its too late Alec Legge broke off. An angry look swept over his face. Oh, yes, he said, I know what youre thinking. That Im nervy, neuroticall the rest of it. Like those damned doctors. Advising rest and change and sea air. All right, Sally and I came down here and took the Mill Cottage for three months, and Ive followed their prescription. Ive fished and bathed and taken long walks and sunbathed
I noticed that you had sunbathed, yes, said Poirot politely.
Oh, this? Alecs hand went to his sore face. Thats the result of a fine English summer for once in a way. But whats the good of it all? You cant get away from facing truth just by running away from it.
No, it is never any good running away.
And being in a rural atmosphere like this just makes you realize things more keenlythat and the incredible apathy of the people of this country. Even Sally, whos intelligent enough, is just the same. Why bother? Thats what she says. It makes me mad! Why bother?
As a matter of interest, why do you?
Good God, you too?
No, it is not advice. It is just that I would like to know your answer.
Dont you see, somebodys got to do something.
And that somebody is you?
No, no, not me personally. One cant be personal in times like these.
I do not see why not. Even in these times as you call it, one is still a person.
But one shouldnt be! In times of stress, when its a matter of life or death, one cant think of ones own insignificant ills or preoccupations[48].
I assure you, you are quite wrong. In the late war, during a severe air-raid, I was much less preoccupied by the thought of death than of the pain from a corn on my little toe. It surprised me at the time that it should be so. Think, I said to myself, at any moment now, death may come. But I was still conscious of my cornindeed, I felt injured that I should have that to suffer as well as the fear of death. It was because I might die that every small personal matter in my life acquired increased importance. I have seen a woman knocked down in a street accident, with a broken leg, and she has burst out crying because she sees that there is a ladder in her stocking.
Which just shows you what fools women are!
It shows you what people are. It is, perhaps, that absorption in ones personal life that has led the human race to survive.
Alec Legge gave a scornful laugh.
Sometimes, he said, I think its a pity they ever did.
It is, you know, Poirot persisted, a form of humility. And humility is valuable. There was a slogan that was written up in your underground railways here, I remember, during the war. It all depends on you. It was composed, I think, by some eminent divinebut in my opinion it was a dangerous and undesirable doctrine. For it is not true. Everything does not depend on, say, Mrs Blank of Little-Blank-in-the-Marsh[49]. And if she is led to think it does, it will not be good for her character. While she thinks of the part she can play in world affairs, the baby pulls over the kettle.
You are rather old-fashioned in your views, I think. Lets hear what your slogan would be.
I do not need to formulate one of my own. There is an older one in this country which contents me very well.
What is that?
Put your trust in God, and keep your powder dry.[50]
Well, well Alec Legge seemed amused. Most unexpected coming from you. Do you know what I should like to see done in this country?
Something, no doubt, forceful and unpleasant, said Poirot, smiling.
Alec Legge remained serious.
I should like to see every feebleminded person put outright out! Dont let them breed. If, for one generation, only the intelligent were allowed to breed, think what the result would be.
A very large increase of patients in the psychiatric wards, perhaps, said Poirot dryly. One needs roots as well as flowers on a plant, Mr Legge. However large and beautiful the flowers, if the earthy roots are destroyed there will be no more flowers. He added in a conversational tone: Would you consider Lady Stubbs a candidate for the lethal chamber[51]?