The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories (Hercule Poirot 21)

168

Agatha Christie

He didn't like stooping."

"One other question. Was your father's eye-sight

good?"

She stared at him.

"Oh, no--he couldn't see at all--I mean he

couldn't see without his glasses. His sight had

always been bad from a boy."

"But with his glasses?"

"Oh, he could see all right then, of course."

"He could read newspapers and fine print?"

"Oh, yes."

"That is all, mademoiselle."

She went out of the room

Poirot murmured, "I was stupid. It was there,

all the time, under my nose. And because it was so

near I could not see it."

He leaned out of the window once more. Down

below, in the narrow way between the house and

the factory, he saw a small dark object.

Hercule Poirot nodded, satisfied, and went

downstairs again.

The others were still in the library. Poirot ad-dressed

himself to the secretary:

"I want you, Mr. Cornworthy, to recount to me

in detail the exact circumstances of Mr. Farley's

summons to me. When, for instance, did Mr.

Farley dictate that letter?"