The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories (Hercule Poirot 21)

of importance.

Yours truly,

MARY DELAFONTAINE.

Poirot smiled to himself. "No longer of im-portance

.... Ah--that is what we shall see. En

avant--to Charman's Green."

Rosebank was a house that seemed likely to live

up to its name, which is more than can be said for

HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?

most houses of its class and character.

Hercule Poirot paused as he walked up the path

to the front door and looked approvingly at the

neatly planned beds on either side of him. Rose

trees that promised a good harvest later in the

year, and at present daffodils, early tulips, blue

hyacinths--the last bed was partly edged with

shells.

Poirot murmured to himself, "How does it go,

the English rhyme the children sing?

Mistress Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With cockle-shells, and silver bells,

And pretty maids all in a row.

"Not a row, perhaps," he considered, "but

here is at least one pretty maid to make the little

rhyme come right."

The front door had opened and a neat little

maid in cap and apron was looking somewhat

dubiously at the spectacle of a heavily mustached