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she thinks of the part she can play in world affairs, the baby pulls over the kettle.”
    â€œYou are rather old-fashioned in your views, I think. Let’s hear what your slogan would be.”
    â€œI do not need to formulate one of my own. There is an older one in this country which contents me very well.”
    â€œWhat is that?”
    â€œâ€˜Put your trust in God, and keep your powder dry.’”
    â€œWell, well…” Alec Legge seemed amused. “Most unexpected coming from you. Do you know what I should like to see done in this country?”
    â€œSomething, no doubt, forceful and unpleasant,” said Poirot, smiling.
    Alec Legge remained serious.
    â€œI should like to see every feeble-minded person put out—right out! Don’t let them breed. If, for one generation, only the intelligent were allowed to breed, think what the result would be.”
    â€œA very large increase of patients in the psychiatric wards, perhaps,” said Poirot dryly. “One needs roots as well as flowers on a plant, Mr. Legge. However large and beautiful the flowers, if the earthy roots are destroyed there will be no more flowers.” He added in a conversational tone: “Would you consider Lady Stubbs a candidate for the lethal chamber?”
    â€œYes, indeed. What’s the good of a woman like that? What contribution has she ever made to society? Has she ever had an idea in her head that wasn’t of clothes or furs or jewels? As I say, what good is she?”
    â€œYou and I,” said Poirot blandly, “are certainly much more intelligent than Lady Stubbs. But”—he shook his head sadly—“it is true, I fear, that we are not nearly so ornamental.”
    â€œOrnamental…” Alec was beginning with a fierce snort, but he was interrupted by the reentry of Mrs. Oliver and Captain Warburton through the window.

Four
    â€œY ou must come and see the clues and things for the Murder Hunt, M. Poirot,” said Mrs. Oliver breathlessly.
    Poirot rose and followed them obediently.
    The three of them went across the hall and into a small room furnished plainly as a business office.
    â€œLethal weapons to your left,” observed Captain Warburton, waving his hand towards a small baize-covered card table. On it were laid out a small pistol, a piece of lead piping with a rusty sinister stain on it, a blue bottle labelled Poison, a length of clothesline and a hypodermic syringe.
    â€œThose are the Weapons,” explained Mrs. Oliver, “and these are the Suspects.”
    She handed him a printed card which he read with interest.
    Â 
    Suspects
Estelle Glynne
—
a beautiful and mysterious young woman, the guest of
Colonel Blunt
—
the local Squire, whose daughter
Joan
—
is married to
Peter Gaye
—
a young Atom Scientist.
Miss Willing
—
a housekeeper.
Quiett
—
a butler.
Maya Stavisky
—
a girl hiker.
Esteban Loyola
—
an uninvited guest.
    Â 
    Poirot blinked and looked towards Mrs. Oliver in mute incomprehension.
    â€œA magnificent Cast of Characters,” he said politely. “But permit me to ask, Madame, what does the Competitor do?”
    â€œTurn the card over,” said Captain Warburton.
    Poirot did so.
    On the other side was printed:
    Â 
    Name and address……………………………
    Â 
    Solution:
    Name of Murderer:…………………………..
    Weapon:………………………………….
    Motive:…………………………………..
    Time and Place:……………………………..
    Reasons for arriving at your conclusions:…………….
    Â 
    â€œEveryone who enters gets one of these,” explained Captain Warburton rapidly. “Also a notebook and pencil for copying clues. There will be