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