elizabeth barnard' s parents lived in a minute bungalow, one of fiftyor

so recently run up by a speculative builder on the confines of the town.

the name of it was llandudno.

mr. barnard, a stout, bewildered-looking man of fifty-five or so, hadnoticed our approach and was standing waiting in the doorway.

"come in, gentlemen, " he said.

inspector kelsey took the initiative.

"this is inspector crome of scotland yard, sir, " he said. "he' scome down to help us over this business. "

"scotland yard?" said mr. barnard hopefully. "that' s good. thismurdering villain' s got to be laid by the heels. my poor little girl--"his face was distorted by a spasm of grief.

"and this is mr. hereule poirot, also from london, and er--""captain hastings, " said poirot.

"pleased to meet you, gentlemen, " said mr. barnard mechanically.

"come into the snuggery. i don' t know that my poor wife' s up to see-ingyou. all broken up, she is. "

however, by the time that we were ensconced in the living-room ofthe bungalow, mrs. barnard had made her appearance. she had evi-dentlybeen crying bitterly, her eyes were reddened and she walkedwith the uncertain gait of a person who had had a great shock.

"why, mother, that' s fine, " said mr. barnard. "you' re sure you' reall fight-eh?"

he patted her shoulder and draw her down into a chain"the superintendent was very kind, " said mr. bamard. "after he' dbroken the news to us, he said he' d leave any questions till later whenwe' d got over the first shock. "

"it is too creel. oh, it is too cruel, " cried mrs. barnard tearfully.

"the cruelest thing that ever was, it is. "

her voice had a faintly sing-song intonation that i thought for a momentwas foreign till i remembered the name on the gate and realizedthat the "effer wass" of her speech was in reality proof of her welshorigin.

"it' s very painful, madam, i know, " said inspector crome. "andwe' ve every sympathy for you, but we want to know all the facts wecan so as to get to work as quick as possible. "' ' that' s sense, that is, " said mr. barnard, nodding approval.

"your daughter was twenty-three, i understand. she lived here withyou and worked at the ginger cat cafe, is that right?""that' s it. "

"this is a new place, isn' t it? where did you live before?""i was in the ironmongery business in kennington. retired twoyears ago. always meant to live near the sea. ""you have two daughters?"

"yes. my elder daughter works in an office in london in the city. ""weren' t you alarmed when your daughter didn' t come home lastnight?"

"we didn' t know she hadn' t, " said mrs. barnard tearfully. "dad andi always go to bed early. nine o' clock' s our time. we never knew bettyhadn' t come home till the police officer came and said--and said--"she broke down.

"was your daughter in the habit of--er--returning home latet'

"you know what girls are nowadays, inspector, " said barnard.

"independent,

that' s what they are. these summer evenings they' re notgoing to rush home. all the same, betty was usually in by eleven. ""how did she get in? was the door open. *"

"left the key under the mat--that' s what we always did. ""there is some rumour, i believe, that your daughter was engaged tobe married?"

"they don' t put it as formally as that nowadays, " said mr. bamard.

"donald fraser his name is, and i liked him. i liked him very much, "! l

said mrs. bamard. "poor fellow, it' ll be terrible for him--this news.

does he know yet, i wonder?"

"he works in court & brunskill' s, i understand."

"yes, they' re the estate agents. "

"was he in the habit of meeting your daughter most evenings afterher work?"

"not every evening. once or twice a week would be nearer. ""do you know if she was going to meet him yesterday. ' ?""she didn' t say. betty never said much about what she was doing orwhere she was going. but she was a good girl, betty was. oh, i can' tbelieve--"

mrs. barnard started sobbing again.

"pull yourself together, old lady. try to hold up, mother, " urged herhusband. "we' we got to get to the bottom of this . . . . '

"i' m sure donald would never--would never--" sobbed mrs.

barnard.

"now j ust you pull yourself together, " repeated mr. barnard.

he turned to the two inspectors.

"i wish to god i could give you some help--but the plain fact is iknow nothing--nothing at all that can help you to the dastardly scoundrelwho did this. betty was j ust a merry, happy girl--with a decentyoung fellow that she was--well, we' d have called it walking out within my young days. why any one should want to murder her simplybeats me--it doesn' t make sense. "

"you' re very near the truth there, mr. barnard, " said crome. "i tellyou what i' d like to do--have a look over miss barnard' s room. theremay be something--letters---or a diary. "

"look over it and welcome, " said mr. barnard, rising.

he led the way. crome followed him, then poirot, then kelsey, and ibrought up the rear.

i stopped for a minute to retie my shoelace, and as i did so, a taxidrew up outside and a girl j umped out of it. she paid the driver andhurried up the path to the house, carrying a small suitcase. as sheentered

the door she saw me and stopped dead.

there was something so arresting in her pose that it intrigued me.

"who are you?" she said.

i came down a few steps. i felt embarrassed as to how exactly to reply.

should i give my name? or mention that i had come here with thepolice? the girl, however, gave me no time to make a decision.

"oh, well, " she said, "i can guess. "

she pulled off the little white woollen cap she was wearing andthrew it on the ground. i could see her better now as she turned a littleso that the light fell on her.

my first impression was of the dutch dolls that my sisters used tothe a. b. c. murders 53

play with in my childhood. her hair was black and cut in a straightbob

and a bang across the forehead. her cheekbones were high and herwhole figure had a queer modern angularity that was not, somehow,unattractive. she was not good-looking--plain rather--but there wasan intensity about her, a forcefulness that made her a person quiteim-possible to overlook.

"you are miss barnardt' i asked.

"i am megan barnard. you belong to the police, i suppose. ""well, " i said, "not exactly--"

she interrupted me.

"i don' t think i' ve got anything to say to you. my sister was a nicebright girl with no men friends. good-morning. "she gave a short laugh as she spoke and regarded me challengingly.

"that' s the correct phrase, i believe?" she said.

"i' m not a reporter, if that' s what you' re getting at. ""well, what are you?" she looked round. "where' s mum and dad?""your father is showing the police your sister' s bedroom. yourmother' s in there. she' s very upset. "

the girl seemed to make a decision.

"come in here, " she said.

she pulled open a door and passed through. i followed her andfound myself in a small, neat kitchen.

i was about to shut the door behind me--but found an unexpectedresistance. the next moment poirot had slipped quietly into the roomand shut the door behind him.

"mademoiselle barnard?" he said with a quick bow.

"this is m. hercule poirot, " i said.

megan barnard gave him a quick, appraising glance.

"i' ve heard of you, " she said. "you' re the fashionable privatesleuth, aren' t you?"

"not a pretty description--but it suffices, " said poirot.

the girl sat down on the edge of the kitchen table. she felt in herbag

for a cigarette. she placed it between her lips, lighted it, and thensaid

in between two puffs of smoke:

"somehow, i don' t see what m. hrcule poirot is doing in our hum-blelittle crime. "

"mademoiselle, " said poirot, "what you do not see and what i donot see would probably fill a volume. but all that is of no practicalim-portance.

what is of practical importance is something that will not beeasy to find. "

"what' s that?"

' dcatlq, mademoiselle, unfortunately creates a prej udice. aprej u-dice

in favour of the deceased. i heard what you said j ust now to myfriend hastings. ' a nice bright girl with no men friends. ' you saidthat

in mockery of the newspapers, and it is very true--when a young girlis dead, chat is the kind of thing that is said. she was bright. shewas

happy. slqe was sweet-tempered. she had not a care in the world. shehad no undesirable acquaintances. there is a great charity always tothe dead. do you know what i should like this minute71 should like tofind some one who knew elizabeth barnard and who does not knowshe is derd. t then, perhaps, i should hear what is useful to me--themegan bamard looked at him for a few minutes in silence whilstshe smoked. then, at last, she spoke. her words made me j ump.

"betty, " she said, "was an unmitigated little ass! "