The Wilmington morning star., 1947-07-14

Pm sorry. Goodby."
John walked back slowly
through the woods. When he go1
TO the swimming pool he sat down
on the bench there. He had no
regrets for his treatment Of Yer.
onica. Veronica, he though dispas.
sionately, was Ct nasty bit of work.
She always had been a nasty bill
of work and the best thing he had
ever done was 70 get clear of her
in time. God alone knew what
would have happened to him by
now if he hadn't!
AS it was, he had that extraor.
elnary sensation Of starting a new
Life, unfettered and unhampered
by the past. He must have been
extremely difficult to live with for
the last year or two. Poor Gerda,
he thought, with her unselfishness
end her continual anxiety to
please him. He would be kinder in
future.
And perhaps now he would be
able to stop trying to bully Hen.
rietta. Not that one could really
bully Henrietta-she wasn't made
that way. Storms broke over her
and she stood there, meditative,
her eyes looking at you from very
far away.
He thought, I shah 60 to Henri.
eta and tell her
He looked up sharply, disturbed
tv some small unexpected. sound.
There had been shots in the woods
higher up, and there had .been the
usual small noises of woodlands,
birds, and the faint melancholy
dropping Of leaves. But this was
another noise-a very faint bust
nesslike click.
And suddenly. John was acutely
conscious of danger. How long
had he been sitting here? Half an
hour? An hour? There was some
one watching him. Someone -
And that click was-of course
i. was
He turned sharply, a man very
quick in his reactions. But he was
not quick enough. His eyes wild
cred in surprise, but there was
no time to make a sound.
The shot rang out and he fell,
a~wkwardly, sprawled out by the
eoge of the swimming pool.
A dark stain Welled up slowly
on his left side and trickled slow
iy onto the concrete o. the pool
edge and from there dripped red
into the blue water.
Eercule Poirot flicked a las
speck of dust from his shoes. He
had dressed carefully for his
luncheon party and he was salts
fled with the result.
He knew well enough the kind
o.. clothes that we're Wor in the
country on a Sunday in England.
but he did not choose to conform
10 English idea. He preferred his
own standards of urban smart.
ness. He was not an English coun.
try gentleman and he would no:
dress like an English country gen
tleman.. He was Hercule Poirot!
He did not, he confessed to him.
self, really like tie country. The
weekend cottage--so many Of his
friends had extolled 1.-THE had
allowed himself to succumb, and
had purchased R~esthaven, though
the only thing ne had liked about
it was its shape, which was quito
square like a box. The surround
ing landscape he did not car for.
though it was, he knew, supposed
to be a beauty spot. 1t was, how
ever, too wildly symmetrical to
appeal to him. He did not care
much for trees at any time-they
had that untidy habit of shedding
their leaves! He could endure
pcplars and he approved of a
monkey puzzle - but this riot OF
beech and oak left him unmoved.
Such a landscape was best enjoy
ed from a car on a fine after
noon. You exclaimed, "Quel beau
~psysage!" and drove back to g
good hotel.
The best thing about Rest
haven, he considered, was the
small vegetable garden neatly
laid out in rows by his Belgian
gardener, Victor. Meanwhile,
FRANCHISE, Victor's wife, devoted
herself with tenderness to the
care of her employers stomach.
Hercule Poirct passed through
the gate, sighed. glanced down
once more at his shining black
shoes, adjusted his pale gray
Homburg hat, and looked up and
down the road.
He shivered slightly at the as
pect of Dovecotes. Dovecotes and
Resthaven had been erected by
rival builders, each Of whom had
acquired a small piece Of land.
Further enterprise on their part
had been swiftly curtailed by a
National Trust for preserving the
beauties of the countryside. The
two houses remained representa-
tive of two schools of thought.
Resthaven was a Eox with a roof,
severely modern END a little dull.
Dovecotes was a riot Of half-tim.
bering and Olde Worlde packed
into as small a space as possible.
(To Be Continued