Anne. You know, went out of his way to pay her compliments and all that. We ragged her about it rather.'
'I just think he did it to annoy me,' said Anne. 'Because I didn't like him. I think it amused him to make me feel embarrassed.'
Rhoda said, laughing, 'We told Anne it would be a nice rich marriage for her. She got simply wild with us.'
'Perhaps,' said Battle, 'you'd give me the names of the other people in your party?'
'You aren't what I'd call a trustful man,' said Rhoda. 'Do you think that every word we're telling you is downright lies?'
Superintendent Battle twinkled. 'I'm going to make quite sure it isn't, anyway,' he said.
'You are suspicious,' said Rhoda.
She scribbled some names on a piece of paper and gave it to him. Battle rose.
'Well, thank you very much, Miss Meredith,' he said, 'As Miss Dawes says, you seem to have led a particularly blameless life. I don't think you need worry much. It's odd the way Mr. Shaitana's manner changed to you. You'll excuse my asking, but he didn't ask you to marry him – or – er – pester you with attentions of another kind?'
'He didn't try to seduce her,' said Rhoda helpfully, 'if that's what you mean.'
Anne was blushing. 'Nothing of the kind,' she said. 'He was always most polite and – and – formal. It was just his elaborate manners that made me uncomfortable.'
'And little things he said or hinted?'
'Yes – at least – no. He never hinted things.'
'Sorry. These lady killers do sometimes. Well, good night, Miss Meredith, thank you very much. Excellent coffee. Good night, Miss Dawes.'
'There,' said Rhoda as Anne came back into the room after shutting the front door after Battle. 'That's over and not so very terrible. He's a nice fatherly man, and he evidently doesn't suspect you in the least. It was all ever so much better than I expected.'
Anne sank down with a sigh. 'It was really quite easy,' she said. 'It was silly of me to work myself up so. I thought he'd try to browbeat me – like K.C.'s on the stage.'
'He looks sensible,' said Rhoda. 'He'd know well enough you're not a murdering kind of female.'
She hesitated and then said, 'I say, Anne, you didn't mention being at Croftways. Did you forget?'
Anne said slowly, 'I didn't think it counted. I was only there a few months. And there's no one to ask about me there. I can write and tell him if you think it matters, but I'm sure it doesn't. Let's leave it.'
'Right, if you say so.'
Rhoda rose and turned on the radio.
A raucous voice said, 'You have just heard the Black Nubian play 'Why Do You Tell Me Lies, Baby?''
Chapter 15
MAJOR DESPARD
Major Despard came out of the Albany, turned sharply into Regent Street, and jumped on a bus.
It was the quiet time of day; the top of the bus had very few seats occupied. Despard made his way forward and sat down on the front seat.
He had jumped on the bus while it was going. Now it came to a halt, took up passengers, and made its way once more up Regent Street.
A second traveler climbed the steps, made his way forward, and sat down in the front seat on the other side.
Despard did not notice the newcomer, but after a few minutes a tentative voice murmured, 'It is a good view of London, is it not, that one gets from the top of a bus?'
Despard turned his head. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face cleared.
'I beg your pardon, Monsieur Poirot. I didn't see it was you. Yes, as you say, one has a good bird's-eye view of the world from here. It was better, though, in the old days, when there wasn't all this caged-in-glass business.'
Poirot sighed. 'Tout de meme, it was not always agreeable in the wet weather when the inside was full. And there is much wet weather in this country.'
'Rain? Rain never did any harm to anyone.'
'You are in error,' said Poirot. 'It leads often to a fluxion de poitrine.'
Despard smiled. 'I see you belong to the well-wrapped-up school, Monsieur Poirot.'
Poirot was indeed well equipped against any treachery of an autumn day. He wore a greatcoat and a muffler.
'Rather odd running into you like this,' said Despard. He did not see the smile that the muffler concealed. There was nothing odd in this encounter. Having ascertained a likely hour for Despard to leave his rooms, Poirot had been waiting for him. He had prudently not risked leaping on the bus, but he had trotted after it to its next stopping place and boarded it there.
'True, we have not seen each other since the evening at Mr. Shaitana's,' he replied.
'Aren't you taking a hand in that business?' asked Despard.
Poirot scratched his ear delicately.
'I reflect,' he said. 'I reflect a good deal. To run to and fro, to make the investigations, that, no. It does not suit my age, my temperament, or my figure.'
Despard said unexpectedly, 'Reflect, eh? Well, you might do worse. There's too much rushing about nowadays. If people sat tight and thought about a thing before they tackled it, there'd be less mess-ups than there are.'
'Is that your procedure in life, Major Despard?'
'Usually,' said the other simply. 'Get your bearings, figure out your route, weigh up the pros and cons, make your decision – and stick to it.' His mouth set grimly.
'And after that, nothing will turn you from your path, eh?' asked Poirot.
'Oh! I don't say that. No use in being pigheaded over things. If you've made a mistake, admit it.'
'But I imagine that you do not often make a mistake, Major Despard.'
'We all make mistakes, Monsieur Poirot.'
'Some of us,' said Poirot with a certain coldness possibly due to the pronoun the other had used, 'make less than others.'
Despard looked at him, smiled slightly, and said:
'Don't you ever have a failure, Monsieur Poirot?'
'The last time was twenty-eight years ago,' said Poirot with dignity. 'And even then, there were circumstances – but no matter.'
'That seems a pretty good record,' said Despard. He added, 'What about Shaitana's death? That doesn't count, I suppose, since it isn't officially your business.'
'It is not my business – no. But all the same it offends my amour propre. I consider it an impertinence, you comprehend, for a murder to be committed under my very nose – by someone who mocks himself at my ability to solve it!'
'Not under your nose only,' said Despard, dryly. 'Under the nose of the Criminal Investigation Department also.'
'That was probably a bad mistake,' said Poirot gravely. 'The good square Superintendent Battle, he may look wooden but he is not wooden in the head – not at all.'
'I agree,' said Despard. 'That stolidity is a pose. He's a very clever and able officer.'
'And I think he is very active in the case.'
'Oh he's active enough. See a nice quiet soldierly-looking fellow on one of the back seats?'
Poirot looked over his shoulder.
