Chapter 29 Chapter 29 Letter from Hometown

"Dear Caterina! You are living in a world of flowers now, so our little village You are not interested in what happens here.Actually, nothing happened.I spend all day with the maids angry.Annie was simply unusable.She wore a skirt that was no more than her knees, short to her thighs, and not Wear wool socks.Rheumatic pains were giving me a lot of trouble, and Dr. Harrison was busy, and one day I had to go to London to find a specialist for treatment. (Of course you have to find an auspicious day.) Experts stretched face, rambling on and on, and finally I had to ask him: 'I'm an ordinary woman, please talk

Simpler.Let me tell you, is it cancer? ' Finally he told the truth.I've been on it for a year. I can still bear the pain.I just feel so alone and all my friends are gone. I wish you would come back to Mary-Ted, my boy.However, this is not possible.maximum available Maybe, when you have any worries or want to get mother-like advice, please think of it, here will always be you Your hometown is your home.your kind old friend Emily Vaini Also: Norlich recently read about you and your cousin, Ms. Templin, in the society section of the paper. interest.I immediately cut it out and put it away.I wish God to give you courage and confidence.

××× Caterina read the old friend's letter twice, then put it down slowly, watching the blue waves of the Mediterranean through the bedroom window.She couldn't help crying.Is she homesick? Reynolds interrupted her deep thought. "Oh, Caterina," cried the young girl, "what's the matter with you?" "Nothing," said Caterina, rubbing the letter in her hands. "It's strange that you're staring like that," Reynolds said. "By the way, I called your friend, the detective, and invited him to Niza for dinner at noon today. I also lied that you wanted to see him. If it was in my name, he would definitely not promise."

"Is it that urgent that you want to see him?" "Frankly, yes. He's taken my heart. I've never seen a man with such beautiful green eyes." "It's possible," Katerina said in agreement. The last few days have been grim.Derek's arrest became a frequent topic of conversation. The secret on the "Blue Express" has been widely circulated, and this secret has always involved two people. "I've already rented the car," Reynolds said. "Mama's off somewhere to brag about. If she knew, she'd go with her. She's a pest."

The Pollo Negrescu Hotel was already waiting for the arrival of the ladies.In spite of Poirot's French courtesies, the lunch was not a pleasant one.Caterina was lost in deep thought.Uncharacteristically, Reynolds turned from rhetoric to silence.She spoke while drinking black coffee, and got right to the point. "Anything new? I mean it's the case, of course." Poirot shrugged his shoulders. "Everything has its own rules." "Then you let it go its own way?" He looked at Reynolds worriedly. "You are young. But there are three things in the world you cannot hurry: lovely God, nature, and old men."

"Nonsense," Reynolds said. "You're not old." "I thank you for your compliment." "Major Knighton is here," Reynolds said. Caterina turned her head involuntarily. "He works for von Alden," Reynolds went on. "I want to ask Knighton something. Excuse me, I'll come and go." When they were alone, Poirot lowered his head and said to Caterina: "You are in a bad mood, your heart has already flown from here." "To England, not too far to fly." She immediately took out the letter she had received that morning from her pocket, and handed it to Poirot.

"This is the first news I've had of life at home since I left Marie Mead, and it makes me sad." He read the letter and handed it to Caterina. "Are you going back to Mary-Ted?" he asked slowly. "That's not what I meant," replied Caterina. "Why should I go back?" "Then I misunderstood it," said Poirot. "Can you forgive me?" He walked over to Reynolds, who was talking to von Alden and Knighton.The Yankee looked very old and frowning.He gave Poirot a mechanical nod of welcome.While he was answering Reynolds' question, Poirot called Knighton aside.

"Herr von Alding looks very ugly," he said. "Does that surprise you?" Knighton asked. "Derek's arrest has created a storm that has been too much for him to bear. He regrets that he has fully entrusted you with finding out the truth." "Is he going back to England?" asked Poirot. "We'll be back home the day after tomorrow." Poirot hesitated for a moment, watching Caterina from across the flower bed. "You should have told Miss Grey that von Arden was going back to England." Knighton felt a little strange at first, but then walked obediently towards Caterina.Poirot watched his figure with satisfaction.

After ten minutes or so he bid farewell to the two ladies, and did not say much thank you for inviting him to lunch.When Poirot was far away from them, Caterina called him again. "M. Poirot, I would like to say something to you. You are right. I am going back to England in the next few days." Poirot stared at her so intently that it made her flush. "I understand," he said. "You don't understand anything," said Caterina. "I know more than you guess, miss." He left her with a slight smile, got into the car and went straight back to Antibes.

Count Rocher's handsome servant, Hippolyte, was polishing the master's set of dishes.The count lived out his days in Monte Carlo.Hippolyte saw a little old man approaching the villa.The visit came as no great surprise to him.He called his wife Mary out of the kitchen, and whispered to her: "Look at that guy, he's coming here." "Do you believe it? Probably from the police again?" "Go and see for yourself." Hippolyte looked outside. "No, not from the police department," she said in a statement. "Thank goodness." The doorbell rang, and Hippolyte opened it with seriousness and dignity.

"The Earl is not at home." The little old man with the beard looked at him kindly. "I know that," he replied. "You are Hippolyte Flavel, are you not?" "Yes, sir." "Then Marie Flavel is your wife?" "Exactly, sir. But..." "I wish to speak to both of you," said the stranger, entering the room. Before asking any questions, Poirot had already sat comfortably in the armchair and called, "I am Hercule Poirot." "Sir, how can I help you?" "Hasn't my name already said that?" "Unfortunately, no." "Allow me to point out to you that this is a sign of your lack of education." Poirot sat there with his hands folded on his chest.Hippolyte and Marie watched with dissatisfaction.They simply couldn't figure out how to treat this rude and uninvited guest. "Sir, do you want to..." Hippolyte asked in a low voice and stiffly. "I'm trying to figure out, why are you trying to lie to the police?" "Sir," cried Hippolyte, "did I deceive the police? Not at all!" Poirot took out a notebook and was flipping through it. "You are mistaken. You have lied to the police at least seven times. I have here recorded the details of the lies." He read the contents of these seven lies in a gentle tone. Hippolyte stood there dumbfounded. "I have not come here to find fault with you," continued Poirot. "Don't think so, my friend. I have come here to prove a lie which interests me. I mean that you have According to what has been said, the Count arrived at the villa on the morning of January 14." "But that's not a lie, that's the truth. Monsieur the Count will be at the villa on Tuesday, January fourteenth. Is that so, Mary?" Mary hastily agreed. "The count left Paris on Monday," continued Hippolyte. "Exactly," said Poirot, "by the night express. Where the journey was interrupted I do not know. But the fact is that we arrived here on Wednesday morning, not Tuesday morning." "Mister is mistaken," Mary put in calmly. Poirot jumped up. "Then I'll let things take their course," he muttered. "What a disgrace!" "What do you mean by that, sir?" Mary lost her composure. "You two will be arrested for assisting in the murder of Ms. Kettering, the English lady who was murdered." "murder……?" Mary's face turned blank for a moment, and her legs trembled; her husband also became a little restless. "But it's simply impossible...impossible! I've always thought..." "Because you insist on what you say, any words are superfluous. You are a couple of fools." Poirot had reached the door when an exclamation of excitement brought him to a halt. "Sir, sir! Wait a minute! I thought it was about a woman again. We used to have little troubles with the police over women, but over murder! That's another matter, quite It's something else." "My patience has a limit," cried Poirot. "I want to know the truth. Or to tell the truth, or... I will ask you one last time: When did the count return to the villa? Was it Tuesday morning or Wednesday morning?" "Wednesday." The man said hesitantly, and the woman nodded in confirmation. Poirot looked at them both in silence for a moment, then nodded gravely. "You two are smarter than I thought," he said calmly. "Your situation has reached a critical moment." Poirot left the villa satisfied. "Quite right," he said to himself. "Would you like to try my riddle-guessing genius again?" It was six o'clock when Miret received Hercule Poirot's card.When Poirot entered the room, he saw the dancing girl walking up and down the room nervously. "What do you want from me?" she called to him. "Haven't you tortured me enough? Isn't it your fault that I betrayed my Derek? What else do you want?" "A little problem, mademoiselle. After the train left Lyon, and you entered Ms. Kettering's box..." "What do you mean by that?" Poirot eyed her continually with mild reproach. "I mean when you're in Ms. Kettering's box..." "I haven't been in." "You saw her lying there..." "Didn't I tell you that I didn't go into her box?" "Damn!" he yelled angrily, making her take an involuntary step back. "You still want to deceive me? I can describe your scene as if I were there. You entered her box and found her dead. It would be dangerous to deceive me." Yes, be careful, my Miss Miley!" In front of his sharp gaze, he closed his eyes, felt weak all over, and sat down slumped. "I just want to ask you a little bit," said Poirot. "Has what you're looking for been found, or has..." "Or what?" "Or someone has already got there first." "I don't want to answer any questions." Mi Lei shouted hoarsely.She broke free from Poirot's hand, panting. Poirot shrugged his shoulders and left her room.He looked very satisfied.