When Captain Roger Anmerin built a large house on the isle off Peltcomb Bay in 1782, it was considered by all to be the culmination of his eccentricity.A man of such high birth as he should have had a fine mansion on a large meadow with perhaps a stream running nearby, and good pastures.But Captain An Molin only loves one thing in his life: the sea.So he built his big house—and, by necessity, a very strong big house—on this little island where the wind blows and the seagulls fly.Every time the tide rises, it will be separated from the land.He has no wife, and Dahai is his only spouse.After his death, the house and the island passed into the hands of a distant cousin of his.This man and his descendants seldom think of this place, and their own land is sold less and less, and their descendants are getting poorer and poorer.

By 1922, holidays by the sea were the order of the day, and the coast from Devon to Cornwell was generally considered to be less hot in summer.Arthur Anmerlin found that his large and useless house could not be sold, but the little estate inherited from Captain Roger could fetch a good price.The big, solid house was added and altered, and a concrete embankment was built between the land and the island.Paths and plank roads are paved everywhere on the island, two tennis courts and large balconies are set up, leading down to a small bay with small rafts and diving platforms.In this way, the Paradise Hotel on Bootlegger's Island in Skincomb Bay opened with great pride.From June to September (plus a short break around Easter), the Paradise Hotel is always full.In 1934, it was expanded and improved, adding a cocktail bar, a larger dining room and several bathrooms. This is a great hotel, built on a small island, very comfortable, not noisy from tourists and tour buses who only go there for a day, and the food there is also very good, you really should go and have fun.” Everyone really agreed Both go.

In the Paradise Hotel, lived a very important person (at least he thought so), Hercule Poirot, in a dazzling white suit, a round straw hat slanted over his eyes, and a well-trimmed mustache. Beautiful, he was lying on a modified beach chair, looking around at everything on the beach.There are steps leading down from the hotel, and there are buoys in the sea, boats made of canvas and rubber, balls and rubber toys.There is a long diving board, and three pontoons at unequal distances from the shore.As for the swimmers, some were in the water, some were lying in the sun, and some were carefully applying sunscreen.On the balconies facing this side, the non-water guests sat chatting about the weather, the view, the news in this morning's paper, and other topics that came to mind.

To Poirot's left was Mrs. Gardner, talking all the time, busy with her knitting, and beyond her husband, Odile Gardner, lying in a camp-chair, The hat went up to the tip of his nose, and every time his wife asked him a question or two, he made a reply.To Poirot's right was Mademoiselle Brest, a sporty woman with gray hair, a weather-beaten but kind face, and a harsh tongue.The result sounds like a shepherd dog interrupting the barking of a German puppy with short barks.Mrs. Gardner was talking: "I said to Mr. Gardner later, hey, I said, sightseeing is a very good thing, and I also like to see a place thoroughly, but, I said, in the end we Been all over the UK and now I just want to go to a quiet place by the sea and relax. Did I say that? Didn't I? Odier? Just relax. I said, I think I have to relax .Did I say so? Odier?"

Mr. Gardner murmured under his hat, "Yes, dear." Mrs. Gardner went on: "So, I mentioned to Mr. Qisong at the Fuke Travel Agency (he arranges all our travels for us, and he couldn't be more helpful in every way. I don't know if What would we do without him!)——Uh, I was just about to say that when I mentioned it to him, Mr. Qisong said that it would be best for us to come here. He said, this is the most beautiful place, like It is a paradise, and it is very comfortable and unique in every way. Of course Mr. Gardner interjected at this time, how about the sanitary facilities? Because, I don't know if you believe it, Mr. Poirot, one of Mr. Gardner's sisters My sister stayed in a hotel once, they said it was a first-class place, in the middle of a hunting ground, but believe it or not, there was only a small shed on the ground used as a toilet! So of course Mr. Suspicion arises in an isolated place, doesn't it, Odier?"

"Well, yes, dear," said Mr. Gardner. "But Mr. Qisong assured us right away. He said that the sanitary equipment here is absolutely up-to-date, and the food here is also very good. I believe it must be so. My favorite thing is that it feels 'almost' , you know what I mean. It's a small place and we all talk to each other and everyone knows everyone. If there's one fault with the English it's that they're always repelling people. Waiting to know you for a year or two. No one will be better than them in the future. Mr. Qisong said that there are many interesting people here, and I can see that he is right, such as you, and Miss Dailey. Oh, I was so excited to know who you are, don't you, Odier?"

"Really, dear." "Ha!" broke in Miss Brest, exploding. "Isn't it very enjoyable, er, M. Poirot?" Hercule Poirot held up his hands beseechingly.But that was just politeness.Mrs. Gardner continued without interruption: "You know, Mr. Poirot, I have heard a great deal about you from Canelia Robertson. Mr. Gardner and I were at the Badhoff, of course Kanelia told us all about the case in Egypt. She said you were amazing, I've always wanted to see you, didn't I, Odyll?" "yes dear." "I really want to recognize Miss Dai Li. I buy a lot of clothes at Rose House. Of course, she is Zheng Rose House Luo. Isn't it? I think the clothes she designs are so beautiful and the lines are so beautiful. I bought them last night She designed the suit she was wearing. She is, I think, a lovely woman in every way."

Major Barry, who was sitting on Miss Brest's side, kept his eyes on the beauties in swimsuits, and hummed, "Looks noble." Mrs. Gardner knits and knits. "I must tell you frankly, Mr. Poirot, that I am a little surprised to see you here--not that I am not thrilled to see you, because I am, and Mr. Gardner is too. I know. But I just get the idea that you might be here for a—well, professional reason, you know what I mean? Well, I'm just terribly sensitive, and Mr. Gardner You know, I can't bear to be involved in a crime. You know—" Mr. Gardner cleared his throat, and said: "You know, Mr. Poirot, Mrs. Gardner is a very sensitive person."

Hercule Poirot thrust his hands into the air. "I can assure you, madam, that I have come here for exactly the same purpose as you two - to enjoy - to take a holiday. I even Don't even think about committing a crime." Miss Brest said again in her short voice: "There are no dead bodies on Smuggler's Island." Hercule Poirot said: "Ah, that's not quite true." Pointing down, he said: "Look at them, lying in rows. What are they? They're not men and women. They don't A bit of personality, just some — human bodies!" Major Barry said appreciatively, "Some girls are really pretty, maybe they're a little skinny."

"Yes," exclaimed Poirot, "but what's that? What's the mystery? I, I'm old, of the older generation. When I was young, I could only see a woman's ankle, glimpse A glimpse of a lace petticoat, alluring! The soft curve of the calf—the knee—the garter—” "Bad boy, bad boy!" said Major Barry in a hoarse voice. "What we wear now--much more sense," said Miss Brest. "Well, yes, Mr. Poirot," said Mrs. Gardner, "I thought, you know, that boys and girls lead a much more natural and healthier life these days. They are together now, and they—er, they —” Mrs. Gardner blushed a little, for she thought decently —“they don't think it's a big deal, you know what I mean?”

"I know," said Poirot, "it's a pity." "Excuse me?" asked Mrs. Gardner in surprise. "Abandon all romance—all mystery! Now everything is standardized!" He waved at the rows of bodies below. "It reminds me a lot of the morgues in Paris." "Mr. Poirot!" said Mrs. Gardner disapprovingly. "The human body—well laid out—is like a butcher's anvil!" "But, M. Poirot, isn't that too much to say?" Hercule Poirot admitted: "Possibly." "Anyway," said Mrs. Gardner, knitting vigorously, "I do agree with you on one point. Girls who lie in the sun like this have hair all over their hands and legs. Me and Elanie Said—she's my daughter, M. Poirot, I said, Elanie, if you lay in the sun like that, you'd get hair all over your body, hair on your hands, legs, and chest, and you What would it be like? I told her so. Isn't that right, Odyll?" "Yes, dear," said Mr. Gardner. Everyone was silent, probably wondering what Elanie would be like in that situation.Mrs. Gardner rolled up her knitting and said: "I think now—" "What's the matter, dear?" said Mr. Gardner.He struggled to his feet from the couch and took Mrs. Gardner's knitting and books.he asked: "Would you like to join us for a drink, Miss Brest?" "Not now, thank you." The Gardners walked to the hotel.Miss Brest said: "What an American husband." Mrs. Gardner's place was taken by the Reverend Steven Lane, a tall, vigorous clergyman in his fifties, with a tanned face and dark gray flannel trousers. It was a vacation dress, and it was very controversial. He said eagerly: "It's a beautiful place. I walked back and forth from Coat Bay to Harford, and walked on the cliff." "It's hot for a walk today." Major Barry never took a walk. "Excellent exercise," said Miss Brest. "I haven't rowed today. There's nothing better for exercising the abdominal muscles." Hercule Poirot's eyes fell on himself, somewhat chagrined. bulging belly.Miss Brest noticed his glance, and said kindly: "Mr. Poirot, if you row once a day, your stomach will soon be gone." "Thank you, miss, I don't like boats." "You mean the boat?" "Boats of all sizes are the same!" He closed his eyes and shuddered. "The shaking on the sea is really uncomfortable." "My God, the sea is as calm as a pond today." Bai Luo said firmly: "There is no truly calm ocean in the world, there will always be waves." "If you ask me," said Major Barry, "nine out of ten cases of seasickness are psychological." "That," said the chaplain, smiling, "is said by a man who used to go to sea—isn't he, Major?" "Only got seasick once - while crossing the Channel. My motto is, don't think about it." "Sea-sickness is a very strange thing indeed," said Miss Brest. "Why do some people get it and others don't? It seems so unfair, and it has nothing to do with a person's usual state of health." No. Some patients are good sailors. I was told that it has something to do with one's spine. Also, some people can't stand being in high places. I'm not very good at it myself, but Reid Mrs. Fong is much worse than I am. The other day, on the cliff-top path to Harford, she held on to me as if she had collapsed. She told me that once, she She got stuck on the ladder outside the cathedral in Milan and couldn't get up or down. She didn't think about it when she climbed up, and it made her miserable when she came down." "Then, she'd better not climb the straight ladder in Little Demon's Bay." Lane said. Miss Brest made a face. "I'm afraid to go myself. The young kids are all right. The Curwen boys, and the Mastermans, they're running up and down, they're having a lot of fun." Lane said, "Mrs. Redfern swam up." Miss Brest said: "Mr. Poirot should appreciate her. She doesn't like to bask in the sun." Young Mrs. Redfern took off her rubber swimming cap and shook out her hair, which was light blond and had just the right fairness of skin, very white on her legs and arms.Major Barry chuckled lightly and said, "Compared to the others, she's like undercooked, isn't she?" Christine Redfern pulled on a long bathrobe and walked up the steps from the beach toward them.Her face was rather serious and pretty, but somewhat poignant, and her hands and feet were slender.She smiled at them and sat down next to them, pulling her bathrobe around her a little tighter.Miss Brest said: "You are very much appreciated by Mr. Poirot. He doesn't like those sunbathing people, saying that they are like butcher's meat on the anvil or something." Christine Redfern smiled ruefully and said: "I wish I could sunbathe, but I don't get brown, I just get red and get horrible bruises all over my arms." spot." "Better than Mrs. Gardner's Elanie with hairy hands," said Miss Brest, seeing Christine's questioning look, and went on: "Ms. Gardner has been in good spirits this morning. , almost never stopped. 'Isn't it, Odile?' 'Yes, my dear.'" She paused, and then said: "But, Monsieur Poirot, I would like you to play a trick on her. , why don't you tell her that you've come to investigate a terrible murder, and that the murderer, a madman, is staying at this hotel?" Hercule Poirot sighed, and said: "I'm really afraid she'll really believe me." Major Barry let out a chuckle, "She will." Emily Brest said, "I don't know, I think some places are just different from other places, and here's not the kind of place that says there's—" She paused, finding it hard to explain what she meant. "It's very romantic here," agreed Hercule Poirot. "It's peaceful here, the sun is shining, and the sea is blue, but you forget, Miss Brest, that evil is everywhere under the sun. " The clergyman slumped in his chair, leaned forward, his blue eyes sparkling, and Miss Brest shrugged. "Oh! Of course I know that, but—" "But you still don't think it's a crime scene? You're forgetting one thing, miss." "I suppose you're talking about human nature?" "That's one point, it always gets involved, but that's not what I'm going to say. I'm going to point out to you that everybody who comes here is on vacation." Emily Brest showed him a puzzled expression, "I don't understand that." Hercule Poirot smiled kindly at her, and pointed his fingers in the air, "Let's put it this way, suppose you have an enemy, and if you go to his place, his office, or To look for him in the street--well, you must have a reason--you must explain your intentions. But at the seaside, you don't have to bother. You came to Cove Cove, why? It's very simple, It's August--August when everybody goes to the sea--going on vacation, so you see, here you are, Mr Lane is here, Major Barry is here, Mrs Redfern and her husband are here, It was all quite natural, for it is a custom for the English to come to the seashore in August." "Well," admitted Miss Brest, "that's a brilliant idea indeed, but what about the Gardners? They're Americans." Poirot smiled slightly. "Even Mrs. Gardner, as she told us, felt the need to relax. Besides, since she was 'playing' England, she had to spend a day by the seaside." Not for two nights—if only to show she's a good tourist. She loves people-watching." Mrs. Redfern murmured: "I suppose you like to watch people, too." "Frankly, ma'am, I do." She mused, "You see—a lot." Everyone was silent for a while, Steven Lane cleared his throat, and said a little uncomfortable: "Mr. Poirot, I am a little interested in what you just said. You said that there are evil things everywhere under the sun. It's almost like quoting from the book of Ecclesiastes." He paused, and then quoted those words: "'And the hearts of men are full of evil, and while they live they are arrogant.'" His face With an almost fanatical brilliance, "I am very glad to hear you say this. No one believes in evil these days. At best, it is only regarded as an opposite word for good. Everyone says that evil It's the work of ignorant people—the savages, and they should be pitied, not blamed. But, M. Poirot, evil is real! It's real! I believe in evil, and it is true. Like I believe in goodness! It does exist! It's powerful! Walking in the world!" He stopped, breathless, he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, suddenly apologetic, "I'm sorry, I went too far !" Poirot said calmly: "I understand what you mean, and partly I agree with it. Evil does exist in the world, and it can be known by people." Major Barry cleared his throat, "Speaking of this kind of thing, when we were in India—" Major Barry's lingering here was so long that everyone was always on guard against his tirade about his Indian stories.Miss Brest and Mrs. Redfern spoke simultaneously. "Is your husband swimming over there? Mrs. Redfern? He's such a strong swimmer, he's such a good swimmer." Mrs. Redfern called out, "Look! That little boat is so cute, with its red legs." Blatt's boat, isn't it?" The boat with its red sails was crossing the far end of the bay. Major Barry grunted: "It's funny, the red sail." But his story about the past was interrupted. Hercule Poirot looked appreciatively at the young man who had just come ashore. Patrick Redfonne was indeed a good human model, with firm bronze skin, broad shoulders and narrow waist, exuding a joyful atmosphere— — an innate simplicity that endears him to all women and most men.He stood there shaking the water off himself, and raised his hand happily in greeting to his wife, who waved back and called, "Come here, Pat." "coming." He walked towards the beach first, going to get the towel he had put there, when a woman walked past them from the hotel and walked towards the beach. She poses as if she knows this very well in her heart, and she doesn't feel uncomfortable at all, as if she has long been used to the inevitable effect of her presence.She is tall and slender, wearing a simple white swimsuit with an open back, every inch of her exposed skin is a very evenly tanned and beautiful light bronze, she is as perfect as a statue, her red kite-colored hair is thick and curly, From the expression on her face, she had the indifference of a woman over thirty years old, but she felt very young—full of vitality.Her face has an oriental immovable feeling, her dark blue eyes are slightly upturned, and she wears a Chinese-style emerald green cardboard hat. She has a special charm; All other women were overshadowed and dwarfed by comparison.And all the men present without exception cast their eyes on her. Hercule Poirot's eyes opened, and his beard quivered slightly.Major Barry sat up, his eyes widening in excitement.The Reverend Steven Lane, on Poirot's left, gasped hissingly and stiffened.Major Barry whispered in a husky voice: "Eleanne Starter (later she married Marshall)--I saw her in 'Send and Greet' before she quit the stage, and it was worth it." Take a look, huh?" Christine Redfern said slowly, in a cold voice: "She's pretty—yes, I think—she looks like a beast!" Emily Brest said suddenly: "Mr. Poirot, you just talked about evil, and now, in my opinion, that woman is the embodiment of evil! She is really a bad woman through and through, and I happen to know her very well." Major Barry recalled: "I remember a girl in India, also with red hair, a lieutenant's wife. She was really all the rage at that time, and men were crazy about her. Of course, all the women wanted to put their eyes on her Dig it out! A lot of people are upset about her." He smiled softly. "Her husband is a nice, quiet guy who adores her and never says anything—submissive to her." Steven Lane murmured in an emotional tone, "This kind of woman is evil—evil—" He paused. Elena Start had reached the water's edge, and two young men who looked like boys jumped up and ran towards her.She stopped and smiled at them, but her eyes were on Patrick Redfern who was walking along the beach behind them.It seemed to Hercule Poirot that it was like looking at the needles of a compass.Patrick Redfonne was affected, his steps changed direction, and the needle must obey the laws of magnetism to turn north anyway.Patrick's feet brought him to Elena Start, who stood smiling at him, and she walked slowly along the water's edge toward the beach.Patrick Redfern followed her, and she lay down beside a boulder, and Redfern sat down beside her.Christine Redfern got up suddenly and went into the hotel. After she left, there was an uncomfortable silence.Then Emily Brest said: "Damn! She's a nice little thing, and they've only been married a year or two." "That girl I was talking about," said Major Barry, "the one in India. She's screwed up a couple of good couples. It's a pity. What did you say?" "There's a certain kind of woman," said Miss Brest, "who likes to destroy other families." She paused for a minute or two, and then said, "Patrick Redfern is a fool." Hercule Poirot Not a word was said.He was looking across the beach, but not at Patrick Redfond and Arlena Starter.Miss Brest said, "Well, I'd better go rowing first," and she left the group. Major Barry turned his red eyes to look at Poirot curiously. "Well, Poirot," said he, "what are you thinking? You have never spoken. What do you think of this banshee? Enthusiastic?" "Possibly," said Poirot. "Well, you old dog, I know you French well." Poirot said coldly: "I am not French." "Well, but don't lie to me that you never look at pretty women! What do you think of her? Eh?" Hercule Poirot said: "She is not young anymore." "What does it matter? A woman's age is determined by her appearance! She looks good!" Hercule Poirot nodded, and said: "Yes, she is beautiful, but in the end it is not beauty that counts, and it is not her beauty that turns all heads (except one) to look at her." .” "It's the charm," said the major. "The important thing is—the charm." Then he said suddenly curiously: "What have you been staring at?" Hercule Poirot replied: "I was looking at the one and only man who did not look up as she passed." Major Barry followed his gaze and saw a man about forty years old, with beautiful hair, dark skin, and a very quiet and cheerful face, sitting on the beach smoking a pipe and reading a book. "Time" magazine. "Oh, that man!" said Major Barry. "That's the husband, and that's Marshall." Hercule Poirot said: "I know." Major Barry laughed. He was a bachelor himself, and he always had only three views of "husband"--"obstacle", "inconvenience" and "bodyguard".He said, "Looks like a nice guy, very quiet. Wonder if my Time magazine order is here." He stood up and walked toward the hotel. Poirot's gaze moved slowly to Steven Lane's face.Steven Lane was watching Arlena Marshall and Patrick Redfonne.He turned suddenly to Poirot, and there was a wild gleam in his eyes.He said: "That woman is simply the embodiment of evil, do you have any doubts?" Poirot said slowly, "It's hard to say for sure." Steven Lane said, "But, can't you feel it? All around you? There's evil there." Hercule Poirot nodded slowly.