The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories (Hercule Poirot 21)

of father and mother and two elderly daughters--Germans.

Beyond them, at the corner of the ter-race,

sat what were clearly an English mother and

Son.

The woman was about fifty-five. She ha

d gray

hair of a pretty tone--was sensibly but not fash-ionably

dressed in a tweed coat and skirt--and

had that comfortable self-possession which marks

an Englishwoman used to much traveling abroad.

The young man who sat opposite her might

have been twenty-five and he too was typical of his

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Agatha Christie

class and age. He was neither good-looking nor

plain, tall nor short. He was clearly on the best of

terms with lis mother--they made little jokes

together--and he was assiduous in passing her

things.

As they talked, her eye met that of Mr. Parker

Pyne. It passed over him with well-bred noncha-lance,

but he knew that he had been assimilated

and labeled.

He had been recognized as English and doubt-less,

in due course, some pleasant noncommittal

remark would be addressed to him.

Mr. Parker Pyne had no particular objection.

His own courttrymen and women abroad were in-clined

to bore him slightly, but he was quite will-ing

to pass the time of day in an amiable manner.