"Do not think. This business that took your husband to Scotland, how much do you know aboutthat?""Not very much. There was some dispute over the restrictions on selling a piece of land whichbelonged to my husband. The sale had apparently gone through and then some sudden snag turnedup.""What did your husband tell you exactly?""He came in with a telegram in his hand. As far as I remember, he said, 'This is most annoying. Ishall have to take the night mail to Edinburgh and see Johnston first thing tomorrow morning. Toobad, when one thought the thing was going through smoothly at last.' Then he said, 'Shall I ring upJock and get him to call for you?' and I said, 'Nonsense, I'll just take a taxi,' and he said that Jockor the Spences would see me home. I said did he want anything packed and he said he'd just throwa few things into a bag, and have a quick snack at the club, before catching the train. Then he wentoff and - and that's the last time I saw him."Her voice broke a little on the last words.

Poirot looked at her very hard.

"Did he show you the telegram?"

"No."

"A pity."

"Why do you say that?"

He did not answer that question. Instead he said briskly:

"Now to business. Who are the solicitors acting for Major Rich?"She told him and he made a note of the address.

"Will you write a few words to them and give it to me? I shall want to make arrangements to seeMajor Rich.""He - it's been remanded for a week."

"Naturally. That is the procedure. Will you also write a note to Commander McLaren and to yourfriends the Spences? I shall want to see all of them, and it is essential that they do not at once showme the door."When she rose from the writing desk, he said:

"One thing more. I shall register my own impressions, but I also want yours - of CommanderMcLaren and of Mr. and Mrs. Spence.""Jock is one of our oldest friends. I've known him ever since I was a child. He appears to be quitea dour person, but he's really a dear - always the same - always to be relied upon. He's not gay andamusing but he's a tower of strength - both Arnold and I relied on his judgement a lot.""And he, also, is doubtless in love with you?" Poirot's eyes twinkled slightly.

"Oh yes," said Margharita happily. "He's always been in love with me - but by now it's become akind of habit.""And the Spences?"

"They're amusing - and very good company. Linda Spence is really rather a clever girl. Arnoldenjoyed talking with her. She's attractive, too.""You are friends?""She and I? In a way. I don't know that I really like her. She's too malicious.""And her husband?""Oh, Jeremy is delightful. Very musical. Knows a good deal about pictures, too. He and I go topicture shows a good deal together.""Ah, well, I shall see for myself." He took her hand in his, "I hope, madame, you will not regretasking for my help.""Why should I regret it?" Her eyes opened wide.

"One never knows," said Poirot cryptically.

"And I - I do not know," he said to himself, as he went down the stairs. The cocktail party was stillin full spate, but he avoided being captured and reached the street.

"No," he repeated. "I do not know."

It was of Margharita Clayton he was thinking. That apparently childlike candor, that frankinnocence - was it just that? Or did it mask something else? There had been women like that inmedieval days - women on whom history had not been able to agree.

He thought of Mary Stuart, the Scottish Queen. Had she known, that night in Kirk o'Fields, of thedeed that was to be done? Or was she completely innocent? Had the conspirators told her nothing?

Was she one of those childlike simple women who can say to themselves "I do not know" andbelieve it? He felt the spell of Margharita Clayton. But he was not entirely sure about her...

Such women could be, though innocent themselves, the cause of crimes.

Such women could be, in intent and design, criminals themselves, though not in action.

Theirs was never the hand that held the knife - as to Margharita Clayton - no - he did not know!

Hercule Poirot did not find Major Rich's solicitors very helpful. He had not expected to do so.

They managed to indicate, though without saying so, that it would be in their client's best interestif Mrs. Clayton showed no sign of activity on his behalf.

His visit to them was in the interests of "correctness." He had enough pull with the Home Officeand the CID to arrange his interview with the prisoner.

Inspector Miller, who was in charge of the Clayton case, was not one of Poirot's favorites. He wasnot, however, hostile on this occasion, merely contemptuous.

"Can't waste much time over the old dodderer," he had said to his assisting sergeant before Poirotwas shown in. "Still, I'll have to be polite.""You'll really have to pull some rabbits out of a hat if you're going to do anything with this one,M. Poirot," he remarked cheerfully. "Nobody else but Rich could have killed the bloke.""Except the valet.""Oh, I'll give you the valet! As a possibility, that is. But you won't find anything there. No motiveswhatever.""You cannot be entirely sure of that. Motives are very curious things.""Well, he wasn't acquainted with Clayton in any way. He's got a perfectly innocuous past. And heseems to be perfectly right in his head. I don't know what more you want?""I want to find out that Rich did not commit the crime.""To please the lady, eh?" Inspector Miller grinned wickedly. "She's been getting at you, I suppose.

Quite something, isn't she? Cherchez la femme with a vengeance. If she'd had the opportunity, youknow, she might have done it herself.""That, no!"

"You'd be surprised. I once knew a woman like that. Put a couple of husbands out of the waywithout a blink of her innocent blue eyes. Broken-hearted each time, too. The jury would haveaquitted her if they'd had half a chance which they hadn't, the evidence being practically cast iron.""Well, my friend, let us not argue. What I make so bold as to ask is a few reliable details on thefacts. What a newspaper prints is news - but not always truth!""They have to enjoy themselves. What do you want?""Time of death as near as can be.""Which can't be very near because the body wasn't examined until the following morning. Death isestimated to have taken place from thirteen to ten hours previously. That is, between seven and teno'clock the night before... He was stabbed through the jugular vein - death must have been matterof moments.""And the weapon?"

"A kind of Italian stiletto - quite small - razor sharp. Nobody has ever seen it before, or knowswhere it comes from. But we shall know - in the end it's a matter of time and patience.""It could not have been picked up in the course of a quarrel.""No. The valet says no such thing was in the flat.""What interests me is the telegram," said Poirot. "The telegram that called Arnold Clayton away toScot- land. Was that summons genuine?""No. There was no hitch or trouble up there. The land transfer, or whatever it was, was proceedingnormally.""Then who sent that telegram - I am presuming there was a telegram?""There must have been. Not that we'd necessarily believe Mrs. Clayton. But Clayton told the valethe was called by wire to Scotland. And he also told Commander McLaren.""What time did he see Commander McLaren?""They had a snack together at their club - Combined Services - that was at about a quarter pastseven. Then Clayton took a taxi to Rich's flat, arriving there just before eight o'clock. After that -"Miller spread his hands out.