The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories (Hercule Poirot 21)

of my collars." Poirot was smiling, apolo-getic.

He dipped into his left-hand pocket. "This

is your letter."

Benedict Farley snatched at it--grunted: "Why

the devil can't you mind what you're doing?"

Poirot retrieved his laundress's communication,

apologized gracefully once more, and left the

room.

He paused for a moment outside on the landing.

It was a spacious one. Directly facing him was a

big old oak settle with a refectory table in front of

it. On the table were magazines. There were also

two armchairs and a table with flowers. It re-minded

him a little of a dentist's waiting-room.

The butler was in the hall below waiting to let

him out.

"Can I get you a taxi, sir?"

"No, I thank you. The night is fine. I will

walk."

Hercule Poirot paused a moment on the pave-ment

waiting for a lull in the traffic before cross-ing

the busy street.,

A frown creased his forehead.

"No," he said to himself. "I do not understand

at all. Nothing makes sense. Regrettable to have to

admit it, but I, Hercule Poirot, am completely

baffled."

That was what might be termed the first act of

the drama. The second act followed a week later.

It opened with a telephone call from one John