The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories (Hercule Poirot 21)

the door from the bar

with the purposeful air of a woman who has always

been able to pay top price for anything she

needed.

She said: "John--? Oh! Good-morning, M.

Poirot--have you seen John?"

"He's on the starboard deck, Madame. Shall

She arrested him with a gesture. "I'll sit here

a minute." She sat down in a regal fashion in the

chair opposite him. From the distance she had

looked a possible twenty-eight. Now, in spite of

her exquisitely made-up face, her delicately

plucked eyebrows, she looked not her actual forty-nine

years, but a possible fifty-five. Her eyes were

a hard pale blue with tiny pupils.

"I was sorry not to have seen you at dinner last

night," she said. "It was just a shade choppy, of

course--"

"Prcisment," said Poirot with feeling.

"Luckily, I am an excellent sailor," said Mrs.

Clapperton. "I say luckily, because, with my weak

heart, seasickness would probably be the death of

me."

"You have the weak heart, Madame?"

"Yes, I have to be most careful. I must not overtire myself! All the specialists say so!" Mrs.

Clapperton had embarked on the--to her--ever-fascinating

topic of her health. "John, poor dar-

198

Agatha Christie

ling, wears himself out trying to prevent me from