Miss Linda Marshall,
73 Upcott Mansions, London, S.W.7.”
He stopped.
Inspector Colgate said:
“I think, sir, that we can wash out the first two entries. Mrs. Castle tells me that the Mastermans and the Cowans come here regularly every summer with their children. This morning they went off on an all-day excursion sailing, taking lunch with them. They left just after nine o’clock. A man called Andrew Baston took them. We can check up from him, but I think we can put them right out of it.”
Weston nodded.
“I agree. Let’s eliminate everyone we can. Can you give us a pointer on any of the rest of them, Poirot?”
Poirot said:
“Superficially, that is easy. The Gardeners are a middle-aged married couple, pleasant, travelled. All the talking is done by the lady. The husband is acquiescent. He plays tennis and golf and has a form of dry humour that is attractive when one gets him to oneself.”
“Sounds quite O.K.”
“Next—the Redferns. Mr. Redfern is young, attractive to women, a magnificent swimmer, a good tennis player and accomplished dancer. His wife I have already spoken of to you. She is quiet, pretty in a washed-out way. She is, I think, devoted to her husband. She has some
thing that Arlena Marshall did not have.”
“What is that?”
“Brains.”
Inspector Colgate sighed. He said:
“Brains don’t count for much when it comes to an infatuation, sir.”
“Perhaps not. And yet I do truly believe that in spite of his infatuation for Mrs. Marshall, Patrick Redfern really cares for his wife.”
“That may be, sir. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”
Poirot murmured.
“That is the pity of it! It is always the thing women find hardest to believe.”
He went on:
“Major Barry. Retired Indian Army. An admirer of women. A teller of long and boring stories.”
Inspector Colgate sighed.
“You needn’t go on. I’ve met a few, sir.”
“Mr. Horace Blatt. He is, apparently, a rich man. He talks a good deal—about Mr. Blatt. He wants to be everybody’s friend. It is sad. For nobody likes him very much. And there is something else. Mr. Blatt last night asked me a good many questions. Mr. Blatt was uneasy. Yes, there is something not quite right about Mr. Blatt.”
He paused and went on with a change of voice:
“Next comes Miss Rosamund Darnley. Her business name is Rose Mond Ltd. She is a celebrated dressmaker. What can I say of her? She has brains and charm and chic. She is very pleasing to look at.” He paused and added. “And she is a very old friend of Captain Marshall’s.”
Weston sat up in his chair.
“Oh, she is, is she?”
“Yes. They had not met for some years.”