e　scent　of　it　in　the　air　was　faintly　unpleasant。　There　were　pink　geraniums　twining　along　the　balustrade　of　Lady　Tamplin's　villa；　and　masses　of　carnations　below　sent　up　a　sweet；　heavy　perfume。　The　Mediterranean　was　at　its　bluest。　Poirot　sat　on　the　terrace　with　Lenox　Tamplin。　He　had　just　finished　telling　her　the　same　story　he　had　told　to　Van　Aldin　two　days　before。　Lenox　had　listened　to　him　with　absorbed　attention；　her　brows　knitted　and　her　eyes　sombre。

When　he　had　finished　she　said　simply：　〃And　Derek？〃

〃He　was　released　yesterday。〃

〃And　he　has　gone　…　where？〃

〃He　left　Nice　last　night。〃

〃For　St　Mary　Mead？〃

〃Yes；　for　St　Mary　Mead。〃

There　was　a　pause。

〃I　was　wrong　about　Katherine；〃　said　Lenox。　〃I　thought　she　did　not　care。〃

〃She　is　very　reserved。　She　trusts　no　one。〃

〃She　might　have　trusted　me；〃　said　Lenox；　with　a　shade　of　bitterness。

〃Yes；〃　said　Poirot　gravely；　〃she　might　have　trusted　you。　But　Mademoiselle　Katherine　has　spent　a　great　deal　of　her　life　listening；　and　those　who　have　listened　do　not　find　it　easy　to　talk；　they　keep　their　sorrows　and　joys　to　themselves　and　tell　no　one。〃

〃I　was　a　fool；〃　said　Lenox；　〃I　thought　she　really　cared　for　Knighton。　I　ought　to　have　known　better。　I　suppose　I　thought　so　because　…　well；　I　hoped　so。〃

Poirot　took　her　hand　and　gave　it　a　little　friendly　squeeze。　〃Courage；　Mademoiselle；〃　he　said　gently。

Lenox　looked　very　straight　out　across　the　sea；　and　her　face；　in　its　ugly　rigidity；　had　for　the　moment　a　tragic　beauty。

〃Oh；　well；〃　she　said　at　last；　〃it　would　not　have　done。　I　am　too　young　for　Derek；　he　is　like　a　kid　that　has　never　grown　up。　He　wants　the　Madonna　touch。〃

There　was　a　long　silence；　then　Lenox　turned　to　him　quickly　and　impulsively