The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories (Hercule Poirot 21)

off as definitely too unsporting."

"That," said Poirot, "is a typically English

idea."

Glass Darkly

I've no explanation of this story. I've no theories

about the why and wherefore of it. It's just a

thing--that happened.

All the same, I sometimes wonder how things

would have gone if I'd noticed at the time just that

one essential detail that I never appreciated until

so many years afterwards. If I had noticed it--well,

I suppose the course of three lives would

have been entirely altered. Somehow--that's a

very frightening thought.

For the beginning of it all, I've got to go back to

the summer of 1914--just before the war--when I

went down to Badgeworthy with Neil Carslake.

Neil was, I suppose, about my best friend. I'd

known his brother Alan too, but not so well.

Sylvia, their sister, I'd never met. She was two

years younger than Alan and three years younger

than Neil. Twice, while we were at school to181

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Agatha Christie

the other door from the passage and asked me

what the hell I was trying to do.

He must have thought me slightly barmy as I

turned on him and demanded whether there was a

door behind the wardrobe. He said, yes, there was

a door, it led into the next room. I asked him we