One, two, buckle my shoe - Agatha Christie [56]
Their figures, however, he considered lamentably deficient. Where were the rich curves, the voluptuous lines that had formerly delighted the eye of an admirer?
He, Hercule Poirot, remembered women…One woman, in particular — what a sumptuous creature — Bird of Paradise — a Venus…
What woman was there amongst these pretty chits nowadays, who could hold a candle to Countess Vera Rossakoff? A genuine Russian aristocrat, an aristocrat to her fingertips! And also, he remembered, a most accomplished thief…One of those natural geniuses…
With a sigh, Poirot wrenched his thoughts away from the flamboyant creature of his dreams.
It was not only, he noted, the little nursemaids and their like who were being wooed under the trees of Regent’s Park.
That was a Schiaparelli creation there, under that lime tree, with the young man who bent his head so close to hers, who was pleading so earnestly.
One must not yield too soon! He hoped the girl understood that. The pleasure of the chase must be extended as long as possible…
His beneficent eye still on them, he became suddenly aware of a familiarity in those two figures.
So Jane Olivera had come to Regent’s Park to meet her young American revolutionary?
His face grew suddenly sad and rather stern.
After only a brief hesitation he crossed the grass to them. Sweeping off his hat with a flourish, he said:
‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle.’
Jane Olivera, he thought, was not entirely displeased to see him.
Howard Raikes, on the other hand, was a good deal annoyed at the interruption.
He growled: ‘Oh, so it’s you again!’
‘Good afternoon, M. Poirot,’ said Jane. ‘How unexpectedly you always pop up, don’t you?’
‘Kind of a Jack in the Box,’ said Raikes, still eyeing Poirot with a considerable coldness.
‘I do not intrude?’ Poirot asked anxiously.
Jane Olivera said kindly:
‘Not at all.’
Howard Raikes said nothing.
‘It is a pleasant spot you have found here,’ said Poirot.
‘It was,’ said Mr Raikes.
Jane said:
‘Be quiet, Howard. You need to learn manners!’
Howard Raikes snorted and asked:
‘What’s the good of manners?’
‘You’ll find they kind of help you along,’ said Jane. ‘I haven’t got any myself, but that doesn’t matter so much. To begin with I’m rich, and I’m moderately good-looking, and I’ve got a lot of influential friends — and none of those unfortunate disabilities they talk about so freely in the advertisements nowadays. I can get along all right without manners.’
Raikes said:
‘I’m not in the mood for small talk, Jane. I guess I’ll take myself off.’
He got up, nodded curtly to Poirot and strode away.
Jane Olivera stared after him, her chin cupped in her palm.
Poirot said with a sigh:
‘Alas, the proverb is true. When you are courting, two is company, is it not, three is none?’
Jane said:
‘Courting? What a word!’
‘But yes, it is the right word, is it not? For a young man who pays attention to a young lady before asking her hand in marriage? They say, do they not, a courting couple?’
‘Your friends seem to say some very funny things.’
Hercule Poirot chanted softly:
‘Thirteen, fourteen, maids are courting. See, all around us they are doing it.’
Jane said sharply:
‘Yes — I’m just one of the crowd, I suppose…’
She turned suddenly to Poirot.
‘I want to apologize to you. I made a mistake the other day. I thought you had wormed your way in and come down to Exsham just to spy on Howard. But afterwards Uncle Alistair told me that he had definitely asked you because he wanted you to clear up this business of that missing woman — Sainsbury Seale. That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘So I’m sorry for what I said to you that evening. But it did look like it, you know. I mean — as though you were just following Howard and spying on us both.’
‘Even if it were true, Mademoiselle — I was an excellent witness to the fact that Mr Raikes bravely saved your uncle’s life by springing on his assailant and preventing him from firing another shot.’
‘You’ve got a funny way of saying things, M. Poirot. I never know whether you’re serious or not.’
Poirot said gravely:
‘At the