i had been impressed at the time by poi rot' s forebodings about the anonymous letter he had received, but i must admit that the matter had passed from my mind when the 21st actually arrived and the first reminder of it came with a visit paid to my friend by chief inspector japp of scotland yard. the c. i. d. inspector had been known to us for many years and he gave me a hearty welcome.

"well, i never,he exclaimed.'if it isn' t captain hastings back from the wilds of the what do you call it!

quite like old days seeing you here with monsieur poirot.

you' re looking well, too. just a little bit thin on top, eh? well, that' s what we' re all coming to. i'm the same. i winced slightly. i was under the impression that owing to the careful way i brushed my hair across the top of my head that thinness referred to by japp was quite unnoticeable. however, japp had never been remarkable for tact where i was concerned so i put a good face upon it and agreed that we were none of us getting any younger.

'except monsieur poirot here, said japp. 'quite a good advertisement for a hair tonic, he' d be. face fungus sprouting finer than ever. coming out into the limelight, too, in his old age. mixed up in all the celebrated cases of the day. train mysteries, air mysteries, high society deaths oh, he' s here, there and everywhere. never been so celebrated as since he retired.

'i have already told hastings that i am like the prima donna who makes always one more appearance, said poirot, smi ling.

'down in a heap behind the counter, that' s where she was. doctor says as how she never knew what hit her. must have been reaching up to one of the shelves.

'there was nothing in her hand?'

"no, sir, but there was a packet of players down beside her.

poi rot nodded. his eyes swept round the small space observing — noting.

"and the railway guide was — where?"

here, sir. the constable pointed out the spot on the counter. it was open at the right page for andover and lying face down. seems though he must have been looking up the trains to london. if so ' twasn' t an andover man at all. but then, of course, the railway guide might have belonged to some one else what had nothing to do with the murder at all, but just forgot it here.

'fingerprints?'i suggested.

the man shook his head.

'the whole place was examined straight away, sir. there weren t none.

"not on the counter itself?" asked poirot.

"a long sight too many, sir! all confused and jumbledup.

"any of ascher' s among them?'

too soon to say, sir.

poi rot nodded, then asked if the dead woman lived over the shop.

'yes, sir, you go through that door at the back, sir.

you' 11 excuse me from coming with you, but i' ve got to staypoirot passed through the door in question and i followed him. behind the shop was a microscopic sort of par lour and kitchen combined it was neat and clean but very dreary— looking and scantily furni shed. on the mantelpiece were a few photographs. i went up and looked at them and poi rot joined me.

the photographs were three in all. one was a cheap portrait of the girl we had been with that afternoon, mary drower. she was obviously wearing her best clothes and had the self—conscious, wooden smile on her face that so often disfigures the expression in posed photography, and makes a snapshot preferable.

the second was a more expensive type of picture artistically blurred reproduction of an elderly woman with white hair. a high fur collar stood up round the neck.

i guessed that this was probably the miss rose who had left mrs. ascher the small legacy which had enabled her to start in business.

the third photograph was a very old one, now faded and yel low. it represented a young man and woman in somewhat old— fashioned clothes standing arm in arm. the man had a flower in his buttonhole and there was an air of bygone festivity about the whole pose.

"probably a wedding picture, said poi rot. ' regard, hastings, did i not tell you that she had been a beautiful woman? '

miss merrion, in her turn, gave him an " oh, these forei gners look.

"she was a nice, clean—looking girl, she said distantly.

"what time did she go off duty last night?'asked crome.

"eight o' clock. we close at eight. we do not servedinners. there is no demand for them. scrambled eggs and tea (poirot shuddered) people come in for up to seven o' clock and sometimes after, but our rush is over by 6:30.

'did she mention to you how she proposed to spend her evening?"'certainly not, said miss merrion emphatically. were not on those terms.

"no one came in and called for her? anything like that?'

"no.

'did she seem quite her ordinary self? not excited or depressed? '

'really i could not say,said miss merrion aloofly.

how many waitresses do you employ?'

'two normally, and an extra two after the 20th of july until the end of august.

'but elizabeth barnard was not one of the extras?"'miss barnard was one of the regulars.

we had a word with each of the other two girls but with no further results. betty barnard had not said anything as to her plans and no one had noticed her in bexhill during the course of the evening.