'He was dumbfounded. He couldn't understand it at all. Nobody could.'
'Not even Hugh Chandler himself?'
Diana did not answer at once.
Poirot waited a minute, then he went on: 'At the time, perhaps, he, too, was astonished. But now? Has he said nothing – nothing at all?'
Diana murmured reluctantly: 'He said – about a week ago – that – that his father was right – that it was the only thing to be done.'
'Did you ask him why?'
'Of course. But he wouldn't tell me.'
Hercule Poirot reflected for a minute or two. Then he said: 'Have there been any unusual occurrences in your part of the world? Starting, perhaps, about a year ago? Something that has given rise to a lot of local talk and surmise?'
She flashed out: 'I don't know what you mean!'
Poirot said quietly, but with authority in his voice: 'You had better tell me.'
'There wasn't anything – nothing of the kind you mean.'
'Of what kind then?'
'I think you're simply odious! Queer things often happen on farms. It's revenge – or the village idiot or somebody.'
'What happened?'
She said reluctantly: 'There was a fuss about some sheep… Their throats were cut. Oh! it was horrid! But they all belonged to one farmer and he's a very hard man. The police thought it was some kind of spite against him.'
'But they didn't catch the person who had done it?'
'No.'
She added fiercely. 'But if you think -'
Poirot held up his hand. He said: 'You do not know in the least what I think. Tell me this, has your fiance consulted a doctor?'
'No, I'm sure he hasn't.'
'Wouldn't that be the simplest thing for him to do?'
Diana said slowly: 'He won't. He – he hates doctors.'
'And his father?'
'I don't think the Admiral believes much in doctors either. Says they're a lot of humbug merchants.'
'How does the Admiral seem himself? Is he well? Happy?'
Diana said in a low voice: 'He's aged terribly in – in -'
'In the last year?'
'Yes. He's a wreck – a sort of shadow of what he used to be.'
Poirot nodded thoughtfully. Then he said: 'Did he approve of his son's engagement?'
'Oh yes. You see, my people's land adjoins his. We've been there for generations. He was frightfully pleased when Hugh and I fixed it up.'
'And now? What does he say to your engagement being broken off?'
The girl's voice shook a little. She said: 'I met him yesterday morning. He was looking ghastly. He took my hand in both of his. He said: 'It's hard on you, my girl. But the boy's doing the right thing – the only thing he can do.''
'And so,' said Hercule Poirot, 'you came to me?'
She nodded. She asked: 'Can you do anything?'
Hercule Poirot replied: 'I do not know. But I can at least come down and see for myself.'
II
It was Hugh Chandler's magnificent physique that impressed Hercule Poirot more than anything else. Tall, magnificently proportioned, with a terrific chest and shoulders, and a tawny head of hair. There was a tremendous air of strength and virility about him.
On their arrival at Diana's house, she had at once rung up Admiral Chandler, and they had forthwith gone over to Lyde Manor where they had found tea waiting on the long terrace. And with the tea, three men. There was Admiral Chandler, white haired, looking older than his years, his shoulders bowed as though by an over-heavy burden, and his eyes dark and brooding. A contrast to him was his friend Colonel Frobisher, a dried-up, tough, little man with reddish hair turning grey at the temples. A restless, irascible, snappy, little man, rather like a terrier – but the possessor of a pair of extremely shrewd eyes. He had a habit of drawing down his brows over his eyes and lowering his head, thrusting it forward, whilst those same shrewd little eyes studied you piercingly. The third man was Hugh.
'Fine specimen, eh?' said Colonel Frobisher.
He spoke in a low voice, having noted Poirot's close scrutiny of the young man.
Hercule Poirot nodded his head. He and Frobisher were sitting close together. The other three had their chairs on the far side of the tea-table and were chatting together in an animated but slightly artificial manner.
Poirot murmured: 'Yes, he is magnificent – magnificent. He is the young Bull – yes, one might say the Bull dedicated to Poseidon… A perfect specimen of healthy manhood.'
'Looks fit enough, doesn't he?'
Frobisher sighed. His shrewd little eyes stole sideways, considering Hercule Poirot.
Presently he said: 'I know who you are, you know.'
'Ah that, it is no secret!'
Poirot waved a royal hand. He was not incognito, the gesture seemed to say. He was travelling as himself.
After a minute or two Frobisher asked: 'Did the girl get you down – over this business?'
'The business -?'
'The business of young Hugh… Yes, I see you know all about it. But I can't quite see why she went to you… Shouldn't have thought this sort of thing was in your line – I meant… er… say it's more a medical show.'
'All kinds of things are in my line… You would be surprised.'
'I mean I can't see quite what she expected you could do.'
'Miss Maberly,' said Poirot, 'is a fighter.'
Colonel Frobisher nodded a warm assent.
'Yes, she's a fighter all right. She's a fine kid. She won't give up. All the same, you know, there are some things that you can't fight…'
His face looked suddenly old and tired.
Poirot dropped his voice still lower. He murmured discreetly: 'There is – insanity, I understand, in the family?'
Frobisher nodded.
'Only crops up now and again,' he murmured. 'Skips a generation or two. Hugh's grandfather was the last.'
Poirot threw a quick glance in the direction of the other three. Diana was holding the conversation well, laughing and bantering Hugh. You would have said that the three of them had not a care in the world.
'What form did the madness take?' Poirot asked softly.
'The old boy became pretty violent in the end. He was perfectly all right up to thirty – normal as could be. Then he began to go a bit queer. It was some time before people noticed it. Then a lot of rumours began going around. People started talking properly. Things happened that were hushed up. But – well,' he raised his shoulders 'ended up as mad as a hatter, poor devil! Homicidal! Had to be certified.'
He paused for a moment and then added: 'He lived to be quite an old man, I believe… That's what Hugh is afraid of, of course. That's why he doesn't want to see a doctor. He's afraid of being shut up and living shut up for
