Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Mishap

The first person we met at Cliff House that night was Nick.She was wrapped in a finely crafted Japanese-style morning gown embroidered with dragons, dancing around in the main room by herself. "Hey, why are you?" "Miss, it breaks my heart to say that." "I know that sounds so offensive. But look, I'm waiting for them to deliver my custom dress. They promised—these guys—promised it, and they haven't seen it yet. a shadow!" "Oh, it's just a matter of dressing! There's a dance tonight, isn't there?" "Yes, we'll all go after the fireworks. That is, if we can all go."

Her voice dropped suddenly, but the next minute she was laughing again. "Don't take it seriously! My motto is: If you don't think about it, there's no trouble. I've got my nerves back tonight, and I'm going to have a good time." There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and Nick turned away. "Oh, here comes Magee. Magee, they're here to protect my detectives from the invisible killer. Take them into the drawing room and let them tell you all about it." We shook hands with Miss Maggie Buckley, and she led us into the drawing room, as Nick had ordered.That's when I had a crush on her.

I thought maybe it was her demure appearance that attracted me.She is a quiet girl.Looking at it with old eyes, you will think she is a picture-perfect person.She was not fashionable at all, and she wore a plain old black dress with a pure radiance on her face.There was a little childishness in those blue eyes, and his voice was mellow and melodious when he spoke. "Nick told me the scary things," she said. "Surely she's playing tricks? Who'd want to hurt Nick? She ain't got no enemies in the world." It was clear from the tone of her voice that she expressed great doubts about the matter.It was evident in her eyes that she was not so flattering to Poirot.I know a girl like Maggie Buckley always has a bad opinion of a foreigner.

"Despite what you say, Miss Buckley, I must tell you that it is all true," said Poirot calmly. She didn't say anything, but she still looked suspicious.Later she said: "Nick is bewitched tonight. I don't know how she did it. She looks crazy." Bewitched!This statement made me shudder.Her tone also disturbed me greatly. "Are you Scotch, Miss Buckley?" I asked suddenly. "My mother is Scots," she said, looking me over.I noticed that her eyes were much softer than they had been on Poirot just now.I think I have the upper hand on Poirot in this respect.

"Your cousin has a lot of courage," I said, "and she's determined to go about her business as usual." "That's the only way to go, isn't it?" Magee said. "It's no use exaggerating how you feel about yourself, it can only make others feel uncomfortable." After a pause, she said softly, "I like Nick, and she treats me well." It's been great." Then Frederica Rice floated in, and we couldn't say anything more.She looked frail in one of the blue gowns often worn by the Virgin in portraits, followed by Lazarus.Then Nick also spun and jumped in.She was wearing a black dress, and around her shoulders was an old Chinese shawl, bright red, very eye-catching.

"Well, guys," she said, "how about some cocktails?" Let's drink.Lazarus raised his glass to Nick and said: "It is indeed a rare scarf, Nick. Is it old?" "Yes. My grandfather's great-uncle Timothy brought it back from a trip." "Beautiful—antique beauty. You won't find anything to match it." "It's warm," Nick said. "It's good for fireworks. And it's a cheerful color. I don't like black." "That's right," said Frederica. "Nick, I've never seen you in black before. Well, why are you wearing black now?"

"Oh, I don't know why," the girl stepped aside angrily.I saw her lips instantly contorted as if she had been stung. "There is no reason for everything a person does." We go in for dinner.There was a somewhat mysterious footman--hired for the occasion, I suppose.The food for dinner was mediocre, but the champagne was good name brand. "George hasn't come," said Nick. "It's a bummer he had to go back to Plymouth last night. I hope he'll be here tonight, at least in time for the ball. I've got Magee a male partner. If The style is not enough, but the appearance is always passable.”

There was a faint sound of motor noise outside the window. "Hey, these bloody raceboats," said Lazarus, "are a real pain in the ass!" "That's not a rowing boat," Nick said, "it's a seaplane." "I think you're right." "Of course it can't be wrong, I can hear it from the voice." "When are you going to buy one of these big moths, Nick?" "Wait until I get rich." Nick laughed. "Then, I thought, you'd fly to Australia, like that girl, what's her name?" "I want to learn from her..."

"I admire her so much," said Mrs. Rice in a sleepy voice, "how strong it is unimaginable—a girl alone flying across the Pacific in a plane!" "I sing the praises of all these brave pilots," Lazarus said. "If Michael Seton had succeeded in his round-the-world flight, he would be the hero of today. It's a pity that he flew to the grave. Britain cannot afford to lose a lone hero like him." "He might still be alive," Nick said. "No, not even a thousandth of hope, poor Mad Seton!" "They always call him Mad Seton, don't they?" asked Frederica.

Lazarus nodded and said: "He came of a rather mad family. His uncle, Sir Matthew Seton, was a mad man, and died a week ago." "Is that the millionaire who founded the many bird sanctuaries?" asked Frederica. "Yes. He hates women. I guess he's been tricked by women before, so he's all about birds. He once bought some islands off the coast and turned them into a bird's paradise .Maybe this is his self-consolation and revenge on women." "Why do you insist that Michael Seton is dead?" Nick insisted on this matter. "I don't understand why you should give up hope!"

"Oh, you know him, don't you?" Lazarus said, "I forgot about that." "Freddie and I saw him last year in Torquay," said Nick. "He had a certain charm about people, didn't he, Freddie?" "Don't ask me, dear. He's your prize, not mine. I remember him flying you once." "Yes, in Scarborough, it's quite frightening." At this moment, Magee asked me in the polite tone of social occasions: "Captain Hastings, have you ever flown in an airplane?" I told her that I had had enough of air travel on a round-trip flight to Paris. Suddenly Nick jumped up with a cry and said: "Here's a call. Don't wait for me, it's getting late. I've made appointments with many people." I looked at my watch when she went out, it was exactly nine o'clock.Sweets and red wine were served.Poirot and Lazarus were talking about art.Lazarus made a brilliant statement, saying that pictures are now a drug.They talked about furniture and ornaments again, and extraordinary opinions abounded. I did my part to chat with Maggie, but it was a lot of work.She picked up what you had to say and went on cheerfully, then stopped and fell silent, so you had to think of a new topic to come up with.Social conversation is an art, just like playing ball, you hit the ball to me, I catch it and call you back, back and forth, it just seems serious.But Maggie catches the ball and doesn't return it to me, and the conversation is always embarrassing. Frederica leaned on the table with her elbows, and sat there quietly, lost in thought. A wisp of smoke rose from the cigarette in her hand, hovering around her light blonde hair, looking like a dreamer. angel. At nine-twenty Nick put his head through the door and said: "Come out, gentlemen. The guests are coming in pairs!" We stood obediently.Nick was busy welcoming new customers, a dozen of them, most of whom looked uninteresting.I think Nick could be a high society hostess.She concealed her frivolous modernity in a discreet way, and she behaved according to the rules, and her reception was well-mannered. Almost all the guests were there, including Charles Weiss.We went together to a part of the garden overlooking the sea and the harbour, where a few chairs had been pre-positioned for the older folks, but most stood and watched.At this time, the first bunch of fireworks bloomed in the sky. Suddenly I heard a familiar voice.Looking back, it was Nick who was greeting Mr. Croft. "It's a pity," she said, "that Mrs. Croft can't come with you. We should take her on a stretcher to see the fireworks." "Why, poor mamma has had a bad life. But she's always resigned and never complains—oh, this one is pretty!" A bunch of fireworks burst, and golden raindrops flickered all over the sky. It was a dark night—there was no moon, and the new moon was three days away.Like most summer nights, there was a chill in the humid air.Maggie Buckley, sitting next to me, was thinly clad and shivering. "I'm going in and getting dressed," she said softly. "I'll get it for you." "No, you don't know where that dress is, I'll go," said Maggie, walking towards the house, and Frederica called after him: "Hey, Maggie, get mine too, it's in my room." "She didn't hear," said Nick. "I'll get it, Freddie, and I'm going to wear a leather one myself. This scarf isn't warm enough, and it's so windy." Indeed, the wind blowing towards the sea added a bit of chill to the cold night. Fireworks were also set off on the cape, and the sky was colorful and lively.I struck up a conversation with a young lady next to me.She asked me about my life, my experiences, my interests, my hobbies, and how long I planned to stay here, and our conversation was like a catechism. "Bang!" Another firework shot into the sky, splashing green stars all over the sky.The stars were changing colors in the sky, now blue, now red, now shimmering broken silver. Fireworks are fired one after another, more and more, faster and faster.Poirot suddenly leaned into my ear and said: "Listen, there's a lot of 'Oh!' and 'Ah!' admiration. But I feel more and more monotonous, don't you think? Bang bang bang, and the smell of sulfur! Mmmm Why, the grass wets my feet, I'm going to catch a cold, and there's probably no medicine for a cold anywhere like this!" "Cold? Does such a beautiful evening make one feel cold?" "Well, a good night, a good night! You think it's a good night without the rain, don't you? But I tell you, my friend, if you had a little thermometer now, you'd find The mercury is almost freezing." "Well," I agreed, "I have no objection to wearing a coat." "That's right, my well-educated friend." "I'll get you the coat, too." Like a cat, Poirot raised his left foot now and then his right. "I'm afraid my feet are wet. Can you get me some galoshes?" I suppressed a smile and said: "It's impossible. You must understand, Poirot, that such things are not being produced for a long time, they are long out of date!" "Then I'll sit in the house," he said, "I don't want to catch a cold because of this boring traffic light, and I might get pneumonia!" Poirot was still purring angrily as we walked towards the house.There was a loud cracking sound from the bay, and several more fireworks exploded in the sky.Those fireworks formed the shape of a ship, and there were a few bright words from the bow to the stern: "Welcome the audience!" "Inwardly," said Poirot, "we are all like children. We are delighted by fireworks, parties, ball games, and even magic tricks. They are nothing but delusions." At this moment I took Poirot by the arm with one hand, and with the other I pointed out something to him. We were about a hundred yards from the big house at Cliff Heights.In front of us, on the ground between us and the French window, curled up was a man with the bright red Chinese shawl round his neck... "My God!" gasped Poirot, "my God..."