Miss Lemon's efficient hands sorted them
quickly. "I'll pay all but these two."
HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?
"Why those two? There is no error in them."
"They are firms you've only just begun to deal
with. It looks bad to pay too promptly when
you've just opened an account--looks as though
you were working up to get some credit later on."
"Ah!" murmured Poirot. "I bow to your su-perior
knowledge of the British tradesman."
"There's nothing much I don't know about
them," said Miss Lemon grimly.
The letter to Miss Amelia Barrowby was duly
written and sent, but no reply Was forthcoming.
Perhaps, thought Hercule Poirot, the old lady had
unraveled her mystery herself. Yet he felt.a shade
of surprise that in that case she should not have
written a courteous word to say that his services
were no longer required.
It was five days later when Miss Lemon, after
receiving her morning's instructions, said, "That
Miss Barrowby we wrote to--no wonder there's
been no answer. She's dead."
Hercule Poirot said very softly, "Ah--dead."
It sounded not so much like a question as an
answer.
Opening her handbag, Miss Lemon produced a
newspaper cutting. "I saw it in the tube and tore it
out."
Just registering in his mind approval of the fact