Evil Under the Sun (Hercule Poirot 24)

Poirot said:

“Wha

t was her manner—when the string broke and the candles fell out of the parcel?”

Christine said slowly:

“She was—upset—embarrassed.”

Poirot nodded his head. Then he asked:

“Did you notice a calendar in her room?”

“A calendar? What kind of a calendar?”

Poirot said:

“Possibly a green calendar—with tear-off leaves.”

Christine screwed up her eyes in an effort of memory.

“A green calendar—rather a bright green. Yes, I have seen a calendar like that—but I can’t remember where. It may have been in Linda’s room, but I can’t be sure.”

“But you have definitely seen such a thing.”

“Yes.”

Again Poirot nodded.

Christine said rather sharply:

“What are you hinting at, M. Poirot? What is the meaning of all this?”

For answer Poirot produced a small volume bound in faded brown calf. He said:

“Have you ever seen this before?”

“Why—I think—I’m not sure—yes, Linda was looking into it in the village lending library the other day. But she shut it up and thrust it back quickly when I came up to her. It made me wonder what it was.”

Silently Poirot displayed the title.

A History of Witchcraft, Sorcery and of the Compounding of Untraceable Poisons.

Christine said:

“I don’t understand. What does all this mean?”

Poirot said gravely.

“It may mean, Madame, a good deal.”

She looked at him inquiringly, but he did not go on. Instead he asked:

“One more question, Madame, did you take a bath that morning before you went out to play tennis?”

Christine stared again.

“A bath? No. I would have had no time and, anyway, I didn’t want a bath—not before tennis. I might have had one after.”