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  of her feelings. Conversation languished, and might have

  ceased altogether but for the latter.

  Mrs Macatta was a woman of great earnestness of purpose.

  Mrs Vanderlyn she dismissed immediately as a useless and

  parasitic type. Lady Julia she tried to interest in a forthcoming

  charity entertainment which she was organizing. Lady Julia

  answered vaguely, stifled a yawn or two and retired into her

  own inner preoccupation. Why didn't Charles and George

  come? How tiresome men were. Her comments became even

  more perfunctory as she became absorbed in her (;wn thoughts

  and worries.

  The three women were sitting in silence when the men

  finally entered the room.

  Lord Mayfield thought to himself:

  12

  'Julia looks ill tonight. What a mass of nerves the woman is.'

  Aloud he said:

  'What about a rubber - eh?'

  Lady Julia brightened at once. Bridge was as the breath of

  life to her.

  Reggie Carrington entered the room at that minute, and a

  four was arranged. Lady Julia, Mrs Vanderlyn, Sir George and

  young Reggie sat down to the card-table. Lord Mayfield

  devoted himself to the task of entertaining Mrs Macatta.

  When two rubbers had been played, Sir George looked

  ostentatiously at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  'Hardly worth while beginning another,' he remarked.

  His wife looked annoyed.

  'It's only a quarter to eleven. A short one.'

  'They never are, my dear,' said Sir George good

  temperedly.

  'Anyway, Charles and I have some work to do.'

  Mrs Vanderlyn murmured:

  'How important that sounds! I suppose you clever men who

  are at the top of things never get a real rest.'

  'No forty-eight hour week for us,' said Sir George.

  Mrs Vanderlyn murmured:

  'You know, I feel rather ashamed of myself as a raw

  American, but I do get so thrilled at meeting people who

  control the destinies of a country. I expect that seems a very

  crude point of view to you, Sir George.'

  'My dear Mrs Vanderlyn, I should never think of you as

  "crude" or "raw." '

  He smiled into her eyes. There was, perhaps, a hint of irony

  in the voice which she did not miss. Adroifiy she turned to

  Reggie, smiling sweetly into his eyes.

  'I'm sorry we're not continuing our partnership. That was a

  frightfully clever four no-trump call of yours.'

  Flushed and pleased, Reggie mumbled:

  'Bit of a fluke that it came off.'

  'Oh, no, it was really a clever bit of deduction on your part.

  You'd deduced from the bidding exactly where the cards must

  be, and you played accordingly. I thought it was brilliant.'

  13

  Lady Julia rose abruptly.

  'The woman lays it on with a palette-knife,' she thought

  disgustedly.

  Then her eyes softened as they rested on her son. He

  believed it all. How pathetically young and pleased he looked.

  How incredibly niive he was. No wonder he got into scrapes.

  He was too trusting. The truth of it was he had too sweet a

  nature. George didn't tmderstand him in the least. Men were

  so unsympathetic in their judgments. They forgot that they

  had even been young themselves. George was much too harsh

  with Reggie.

  Mrs Macatta had risen. Goodnights were said.

  The three women went out of the room. Lord Mayfield

  helped himself to a drink after giving one to Sir George, then

  he looked up as Mr Carlile appeared at the door.

  'Get out the fries and all the papers, will you, Catlile?

  Including the plans and the prints. The Air Marshal and I will

  be along shortly. We'll just take a turn outside first, eh,

  George? It's stopped raining.'

  Mr Carlile, turning to depart, murmured an apology as he

  almost collided with Mrs Vanderlyn.

  She drifted towards them, murmuring:

  'My book, I was reading it before dinner.'

  Reggie sprang for'ward and held up a book.

  'Is this it? On the sofa?'

  'Oh, yes. Thank You so much.'

  She smiled sweetly, said goodnight again andwent out of the

  room.

  Sir George had olaened one of the french windows.

  'Beautiful night now,' he announced. 'Good idea of yours to

  take a turn.'

  Reggie said:

  'Well, goodnight, sir. I'll be toddling off to bed.'

  'Goodnight, my boy,' said Lord Mayfield.

  Reggie picked uD a detective story which he had begun

  earlier in the evening and left the room.

  Lord Mayfield anl Sir George stepped out upon the terrace.

  14

  It was a beautiful night, with a clear sky studded with stars.

  Sir George drew a deep breath.

  'Phew, that woman uses a lot of scent,' he remarked.

  Lord Mayfield laughed.

  'Anyway, it's not cheap scent. One of the most expensive

  brands on the market, I should say.'

  Sir George gave a grimace.

  'I suppose one should be thankful for that.'

  'You should, indeed. I think a woman smothered in cheap

  scent is one of the greatest abominations known to manldnd.'

  Sir George glanced up at the sky.

  'Extraordinary the way it's cleared. I heard the rain beating

  down when we were at dinner.'

  The two men strolled gently along the terrace.

  The terrace ran the whole length of the house. Below it the

  ground sloped gently away, permitting a magnificent view over

  the Sussex weald.

  Sir George lit a cigar.

  'About this metal alloy -' he began.

  The talk became technical.

  As they approached the far end of the terrace for the fifth

  time, Lord Mayfield said with a sigh:

  'Oh, well, I suppose we'd better get down to it.'

  'Yes, good bit of work to get through.'

  The two men turned, and Lord Mayfield uttered a surprised

  ejaculation.

  'Hallo! See that?'

  'See what?' asked Sir George.

  'Thought I saw someone slip across the terrace from my

  study window.'

  'Nonsense, old boy. I didn't see anything.'

  'Well, I did - or I thought I did.'

  'Your eyes are playing nicks on you. I was looking straight

  down the terrace, and I'd have seen anything there was to be

  seen. There's precious little I don't see - even if I do have to

  hold a newspaper at arm's length.'

  Lord Mayfield chuckled.

  15.

  'I can put one over on you there, George. I read easily

  without glasses.'

  'But you can't always distinguish the fellow on the other side

  of the House. Or is that eyeglass of yours sheer intimidation?'

  Laughing, the two men entered Lord Mayfield's study, the

  french window of which was open.

  Mr Carlile was busy arranging some papers in a file by the

  safe.

  He looked up as they entered.

  'Ha, Carlile, everything ready?'

  'Yes, Lord Mayfield, all the papers are on your desk.'

  The desk in question was a big important-looking wfiting-table

  of mahogany set across a corner by the window. Lord
r />   Mayfield went over to it, and began sorting through the various

  documents laid out.

  'Lovely night now,' said Sir George.

  Mr Carlile agreed.

  'Yes, indeed. Remarkable the way it's cleared up after the

  rain.'

  Putting away his f'fle, Mr Carlile asked:

  'Will you want me any more tonight, Lord Mayfield?'

  'No, I don't think so, Carlile. I'll put all these away myself.

  We shall probably be late. You'd better mm in.'

  'Thank you. Goodnight, Lord Mayfield. Goodnight, Sir

  George.'

  'Goodnight, Carlile.'

  As the secretary was about to leave the room, Lord Mayfield

  said sharply:

  'Just a minute, Carlile. You've forgotten the most important

  of the lot.'

  'I beg your pardon, Lord Mayfield.'

  'The actual plans of the bomber, man.'

  The secretary stared.

  'They're fight on the top, sir.' 'They're nothing of the sort.'

  'But I've just put them there.'

  'Look for yourself, man.'

  16

  With a bewildered expression, the young man came forward

  and joined Lord Mayfield at the desk.

  Somewhat impatiently the Minister indicated the pile of

  papers. Carlile sorted through them, his expression of bewil-derment

  growing.

  'You see, they're not there.'

  The secretary stammered:

  'But - but it's incredible. I laid them there not three minutes

  ago.'

  Lord Mayfield said good-humouredly:

  'You must have made a mistake, they must be still in the

  safe.'

  'I don't see how - I know I put them there?

  Lord Mayfield brushed past him to the open safe. Sir

  George joined them. A very few minutes sufficed to show that

  the plans of the bomber were not there.

  Dazed and unbelieving, the three men returned to the desk

  and once more turned over the papers.

  'My God!' said Mayfield. 'They're gone!'

  Mr Carlile cried:

  'But it's impossible!'

  'Who's been in this room?' snapped out the Minister.

  'No one. No one at all.'

  'Look here, Carlile, those plans haven't vanished into thin

  air. Someone has taken them. Has Mrs Vanderlyn been in

  here?'

  'Mrs Vanderlyn? Oh, no, sir.'

  'I'll back that,' said Carrington. He sniffed the air! 'You'd

  soon smell if she had. That scent of hers.'

  'Nobody has been in here,' insisted Carlile. 'I can't under-stand

  it.'

  'Look here, Carlile,' said Lord Mayfield. 'Pull yourself

  together. We've got to get to the bottom of this. You're

  absolutely sure the plans were in the safe?'

  'Absolutely.'

  'You actually saw them? You didn't just assume they were

  among the others?'

  17

  'No, no, Lord Mayfield. I saw them. I put them on top of the

  others on the desk.'

  'And since then, you say, nobody has been in the room. Have

  you been out of the room?'

  'No - at least - yes.'

  'Ah!' cried Sir George. 'Now we're getting at it!'

  Lord Mayfield said sharply:

  'What on earth -' when Carlile interrupted.

  'In the normal course of events, Lord Mayfield, I should

  not, of course, have dreamt of leaving the room when

  important papers were lying about, but hearing a woman

  scream '

  'A woman scream?' ejaculated Lord Mayfield in a surprised

  voice.

  'Yes, Lord Mayfield. It startled me more than I can say. I

  was just laying the papers on the desk when I heard it, and

  naturally I ran out into the hall.'

  'Who screamed?'

  'Mrs Vanderlyn's French maid. She was standing halfway

  up the stairs, looking very white and upset and shaking all over.

  She said she had seen a ghost.'

  'Seen a ghost?'

  'Yes, a tall woman dressed all in white who moved without

  a sound and floated in the air.'

  'What a ridiculous story!'

  'Yes, Lord Mayfield, that is what I told her. I must say she

  seemed rather ashamed of herself. She went off upstairs and I

  came back in here.'

  'How long ago was this?'

  'Just a minute or two before you and Sir George came in.'

  'And you were out of the room - how long?'

  The secretary considered.

  'Two minutes - at the most three.'

  'Long enough,' groaned Lord Mayfield. Suddenly he

  clutched his friend's arm.

  'George, that shadow I saw - slinking away from this

  18

  window. That was it! As soon as Carlile left the room, he

  nipped in, seized the plans and made off.'

  'Dirty work,' said Sir George.

  Then he seized his friend by the arm.

  'Look here, Charles, this is the devil of a business. What the

  hell are we going to do about it?'

  CHAPTER3

  'At any rate give it a trial, Charles.'

  It was half an hour later. The two men were in Lord

  Mayfield's study, and Sir George had been expending a

  considerable amount of persuasion to induce his friend to adopt

  a certain course.

  Lord Mayfield, at first most unwilling, was gradually

  becoming less averse to the idea.

  Sir George went on:

  'Don't be so damned pig-headed, Charles.'

  Lord Mayfield said slowly:

  'Why drag in a wretched foreigner we know nothing about?'

  'But I happen to know a lot about him. The man's a marvel.'

  'Humph.'

  'Look here, Charles. It's a chance! Discretion is the essence

  of this business. If it leaks out '

  'When it leaks out is what you mean!'

  'Not necessarily. This man, Hercule Poirot '

  'Will come down here and produce the plans like a conjurer

  taking rabbits out of his hat, I suppose?'

  'He'll get at the truth. And the truth is what we want. Look

  here, Charles, I take all responsibility on myself.'

  Lord Mayfield said slowly:

  'Oh, well, have it your own way, but I don't see what the

  fellow can do...'

  19

  Sir George picked up the phone.

  'I'm going to get through to him - now.'

  'He'll be in bed.'

  'He can get up. Dash it all, Charles, you can't let that woman

  get away with it.'

  'Mrs Vandcrlyn, you mean?'

  'Yes. You don't doubt, do you, that she's at the bottom of

  this?'

  'No, I don't. She's turned the tables on me with a vengeance.

  I don't like admitting, George, that a woman's been too clever

  for us. It goes against the grain. But it's true. We shan't be able

  to prove anything against her, and yet we both know that she's

  been the prime mover in the affair.'

  'Women are the devil,' said Carrington with feeling.

  'Nothing to connect her with it, damn it all! We may believe

  that she put the girl up to that screaming trick, and that the man

  lurking outside was her accomplice, but the devil of it is we

  can't prove it.'

  'Perhaps Hercule Poirot can.'

  Suddenly Lord Mayfield laughed.

  'By the Lord, George, I thought you were too much of an old

  John Bull to put
your trust in a Frenchman, however clever.'

  'He's not even a Frenchman, he's a Belgian,' said Sir George

  in a rather shamefaced manner.

  'Well, have your Belgian down. Let him try his wits on this

  business. I'll bet he can't make more of it than we can.'

  Without replying, Sir George stretched a hand to the telephone.

  CHAPTER 4

  Blinking a little, Hercule Poirot turned his head from one man

  to the other. Very delicately he smothered a yawn.

  20

  It was half-past two in the morning. He had been roused

  from sleep and rushed down through the darkness in a big

  Rolls Royce. Now he had just f'mished hearing what the two

  men had to tell him.

  'Those are the facts, M. Poirot,' said Lord Mayfield.

  He leaned back in his chair, and slowly f'med his monocle in

  one eye. Through it a shrewd, pale-blue eye watched Poirot

  attentively. Besides being shrewd the eye was def'mitely

  sceptical. Poirot cast a swift glance at Sir George Carrington.

  That gentleman was leaning forward with an expression of

  almost childlike hopefulness on his face.

  Poirot said slowly:

  'I have the facts, yes. The maid screams, the secretary goes

  out, the nameless watcher comes in, the plans are there on top

  of the desk, he snatches them up and goes. The facts - they are

  all very convenient.'

  Something in the way he uttered the last phrase seemed to