Evil Under the Sun (Hercule Poirot 24)

“I’m going in to dinner. On the whole, Redfern, pirates are my favourites, not pixies.”

Patrick Redfern said with a laugh as the other went out:

“Faith, I’d like to see the old boy pixy-led himself!”

Poirot observed meditatively:

“For a hard-bitten business man, M. Blatt seems to have a very romantic imagination.”

Patrick Redfern said:

“That’s because he’s only half-educated. Or so my wife says. Look at what he reads! Nothing but thrillers or Wild West stories.”

Poirot said:

“You mean that he has still the mentality of a boy?”

“Well, don’t you think so, sir?”

“Me, I have not seen very much of him.”

“I haven’t either. I’ve been out sailing with him once or twice—but he doesn’t really like having anyone with him. He prefers to be on his own.”

Hercule Poirot said:

“That is indeed curious. It is singularly unlike his practice on land.”

Redfern laughed. He said:

“I know. We all have a bit of trouble keeping out of his way. He’d like to turn this place into a cross between Margate and Le Touquet.”

Poirot said nothing for a minute or two. He was studying the laughing face of his companion very attentively. He said suddenly and unexpectedly:

“I think, M. Redfern, that you enjoy living.”

Patrick stared at him, surprised.

“Indeed I do. Why not?”

“Why not indeed,” agreed Poirot. “I make you my felicitation on the fact.”

Smiling a little, Patrick Redfern said:

“Thank you, sir.”

“That is why, as an older man, a very much older man, I venture to offer you a piece of advice.”

“Yes, sir?”

“A very wise friend of mine in the Police Force said to me years ago: ‘Hercule, my friend, if you would know tranquillity, avoid women.’”

Patrick Redfern said:

“I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that, sir. I’m married, you know.”

“I do know. Your wife is a very charming, a very accomplished woman. She is, I think, very fond of you.”

Patrick Redfern said sharply: