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[Gеt the rest of this аmаzіng story hеrе]( ➡️ "The Buck Stops Hеrе," [Signiture / Dylan Jovine, CEO - Behind the Markets] Bit of a difference from Sir George, said the other. Ah, it was the 'orses did for him, said Mr. Burnaby indulgently. 'ad no luck. What did he for the place? A cool sixty , so I've heard. The lean man whistled. Mr. Burnaby went on triumphantly: And they say she'll have spent another sixty before she's finished! Wicked! said the lean man. W'd she that from? America, so I've heard. Her mother was the daughter of one of those aire blokes. Quite like the pictures, isn't it? The girl came out of the post ice and climbed into the car. As she drove the lean man followed her with his eyes. He muttered: It seems wrong to me---her looking like that. and looks--it's too much! Ifa girl's as rich as that she's no right to be a good-looker as well. And she is a good-looker... Got everything that girl has. Doesn't seem fair... ii Extr from the social column of the Daily Blague. Among those supping at Chez Ma Tante I noticed beautiful Linnet Ridgeway. She was with the Hon. Joanna Southwood, Lord dlesham and Mr. Toby Bryce. Miss Ridgeway, as everyone ks, is the daughter of Melhuish Ridgeway who married Anna Hartz. She inherits from her grandfather, Leopold Hartz, an immense fortune. The lovely Linnet is the sensation of the moment, and it is rumoured that an engagement may be announced shortly. Certainly Lord dlesham seemed very pris! The Hon. Joanna Southwood said: Darling, I think it's going to be ly marvellous! She was sitting in Linnet Ridgeway's bedroom at Wode H. From the dow the eye passed over the gardens to country with blue shadows of woodlands. It's rather , isn't it? said Linnet. She leaned her arms on the dow-sill. Her face was eager, alive, dynamic. Beside her, Joanna Southwood seemed, somehow, a little dim--a t, thin young woman of twenty-seven, with a long clever face and freakishly plucked eyebrows. And you've done so much in the time! Did you have lots of architects and things? Three. What are architects like? I don't think I've ever met any. They were right. I found them rather unprical sometimes. Darling, you put that right! You are the most prical creature! Joanna picked up a string of pearls from the dressing-table. I suppose these are real, aren't they, Linnet? Of course. I k it's 'of course' to you, my sweet, but it wouldn't be to most people. Heavily cultured or even Woolworth! Darling, they rey are incredible, so exquisitely matched. They must be worth the most fabulous sums! Rather vulgar, you think? No, not at --just pure beauty. What are they worth? About fifty . What a lovely lot of ! Aren't you afraid of having them stolen? No, I always wear them--and anyway they're insured. Let me wear them till dinner-time, will you, darling? It would give me such a thrill. Linnet laughed. Of course, if you like. You k, Linnet, I rey do envy you. You've simply got everything.. you are at twenty, your own mistress, with any amount of , looks, superb health. You've even got brains! When are you twenty-one? Next June. I sh have a grand coming-of-age party in London. And then are you going to marry Charles dlesham? the dreadful little gossip writers are ting so excited about it. And he rey is frightfully devoted. Linnet shrugged her shoulders. I don't k. I don't rey want to marry any one yet. Darling, how right you are! It's quite the same afterwards, is it? Miss de Bellefort is on the line. Sh I put her through? Bellefort? Oh, of course, yes, put her through. A and a voice, an eager, soft, slightly breathless voice. 'Jackie darling.t I haven't heard anything I k. It's awful. Linnet, I want to see Darling, can't you come down ? My That's just what I want to do. Well, jump into a train or a car. Right, I will. A frightfully dilapidated of you for ages and ages.t you terribly. toy. I'd love to show it to you. two-seater. I bought it for fifteen pounds and some days it goes beautifully. But it has moods. If I haven't arrived by tea-time you'll k it's had a mood. So long, my sweet. Linnet replaced the receiver. She crossed back to Joanna. That's my oldest , Jacqueline de Bellefort. We were toher at a convent in Paris. She's had the most terribly bad luck. Her father was a French Count, her mother was American--a Southerner. The father went with some woman, and her mother lost her in the W Street crash. Jackie was left absolutely broke. I don't k how she's managed to along the last two years. Joanna was polishing her deep blood-coloured nails with her 's nail pad. She leant back with her head on one side scrutinising the effect. Darling, she drawled, 't that be rather tiresome? If any misfortunes happen to my s I always drop them at once.t It sounds heartless, but it saves such a lot of trouble later! They always want to borrow you, or else they start a dress-making business and you have to the most terrible clothes from them. Or they paint lampshades, or do Batik scarves. So if I lost my , you'd drop me tomorrow? Yes, darling, I would. You can't say I'm not honest about it! I like ful people. And you'll find that's true of nearly everybody--- most people 't admit it. They just say that 'rey they can't put up with Mary or Emily or Pamela any more! Her troubles have made her so bitter and peculiar, poor dear!' How beastly you are, Joanna! I'm on the make, like every one else. I'm not on the make! For obvious reasons! You don't have to be sordid when good-looking, middle-aged American trustees pay you over a vast owance every quarter. And you're wrong about Jacqueline, said Linnet. She's not a sponge. I've wanted to help her but she 't let me. She's as proud as the devil. What's she in such a hurry to see you for? I'll bet she wants something! You just wait and see. She sounded excited about something, admitted Linnet. Jackie always did frightfully worked up over things. She once stuck a penknife into some one! Darling, how thrilling! A boy who was teasing a dog. Jackie tried to him to . He wouldn't. She pulled him and shook him but he was much stronger than she was, and at last she whipped out a penknife and plunged it right into him. T was the most awful row! I should think so. It sounds most uncomfortable! Linnet's maid entered the room. With a murmured word of apology, she took down a dress from the wardrobe and went out of the room with it. What's the matter with Marie? asked Joanna. She's been crying. Poor thing. You k I told you she wanted to marry a man who has a job in Egypt. She didn't k much about him so I thought I'd better make sure he was right. It turned out that he had a already--and three children. What a lot of enemies you must make, Linnet. Enemies? Linnet looked surprised. Why, I haven't got an enemy in the world! il) Lord dlesham sat under the cedar tree. His eyes rested on the graceful proportions of Wode H. T was nothing to mar its old-world beauty, the buildings and additions were out of sight round the corner. It was a fair and peaceful sight bathed in the autumn sunshine. theless, as he gazed, it was no longer Wode H that Charles dlesham saw. Instead, he seemed to see a more imposing Elizabethan mansion, a long sweep of park, a bleaker background .... It was his own family seat, Charltonbury, and in the foreground stood a figurea girl's figure with bright golden hair and an eager confident face . . . Linnet as mistress of Charltonbury! He felt very hopeful. That refusal of hers had not been at a definite refusal. It had been little more than a plea for time. Well, he could afford to wait a little... How amazingly suitable the whole thing was. It was certainly advisable that he should marry , but not such a matter of necessity that he could regard himself as forced to put his own feelings on one side. And he loved Linnet. He would have wanted to marry her even if she had been pricy penniless instead of one of the richest girls in England. , fortunately, she was one of the richest girls in England Lord dlesham--Miss de Bellefort--my best . A pretty child, he thought--not rey pretty but decidedly attrive with her dark curly hair and her enormous eyes. He murmured a few tful nothings and then managed unobtrusively to the two s toher. Jacqueline pouncedin a fashion that Linnet remembered as being chareristic of her. dlesham? dlesham? That's the man the papers always say you're going to marry! Are you, Linnet? Are you? Linnet murmured: Perhaps. Darling--I'm so glad! He looks nice. Oh, don't make up your mind about it--I haven't made up my own mind yet. Of course not! Queens always proceed with due deliberation to the choosing of a consort! Don't be ridiculous, Jackie. But you are a queen, Linnet! You always were. Sa MajestY, la reine Linette. Linette la blonde! And I--I'm the queen's confidante! The trusted Maid of Honour. What nonsense you talk, Jackie, darling. W have you been this time? You just disappear. And you write. I hate writing letters. W have I been? Oh, about three parts submerged, darling. In JOBS, you k. Grim jobs with grim women! Darling, I wish you'd--- Take the queen's bounty? Well, frankly darling, that's what I'm for. No, not to borrow . It's not got to that yet! But I've come to ask a big important favour! go on. If you're going to marry the dlesham man you'll understand, perhaps. Linnet looked puzzled for a minute, then her face cleared. Jackie, do you mean--Yes, darling, I'm engaged! So that's it! I thought you were looking particularly alive somehow. You · always do, of course, but even more than usual. That's just what I feel like. Tell me about him. His 's Simon Doyle. He's big and square and incredibly simple and boyish and utterly adorable! He's poor--got no . He's what you c 'county' right--but very impoverished county--a younger son and that. His people come from Devonshire. He loves country and country things. And for the last five years he's been in the city in a stuffy ice. And they're cutting down and he's out of a job. Linnet, I sh die if I can't marry him! I sh die! I sh die! I sh die... 1 Don't be ridiculous, Jaekie. I sh die, I tell you! I'm crazy about him. He's crazy about me. We can't live without each other. Darling, you have got it badly! I k. It's awful, isn't it? This love business s hold of you and you can't do anything about it. She paused for a minute. Her dark eyes dilated, looked suddenly tragic. She gave a little shiver. It's-even frightening sometimes! Simon and I were made for each other. I sh care for any one else. And you've got to help us, Linnet. I heard you'd bought this place and it put an idea into my head. Listen, you'll have to have a land agent--perhaps two. I want you to give the job to Simon. Oh! Linnet was startled. He's got that sort of thing at his finger-tips. He ks about estates--was brought up on one. And he's got his business training too. Oh, Linnei, you will give him a job, 't you, for love of me? If.he doesn't make good, sack him. But he will. And we can live in a little house and I sh see lots of you and everything in the garden will be too, too divine. She got up. Say you will, Linnet. Say you will. Beautiful Linnet! T golden Linnet! My own very special Linnet! Say you will. Jackie-- You will? Linnet burst out laughing. Ridiculous Jackie! Bring along your young man and let me have a look at him and we'll talk it over. Jackie darted at her, kissing her exuberanfiy: Darling Linnet--you're a real ! I ] you were. You wouldn't let me down--ever. You're just the loveliest thing in the world. Goodbye. But, Jackie, you're staying. Me? No, I'm not. I'm going back to London and tomorrow I'll come back and bring Simon and we'll settle it up. You'll adore him. He rey is a pet. But can't you wait and just have tea? No, I can't wait, Linnet. I'm too excited. I must back and tell Simon. I k I'm mad, darling, but I can't help it. Marriage will cure me, I expect. It always seems to have a very sobering effect on people. She turned at the door, stood a moment, then rushed back for a last quick bird-like embrace. Dear Linnet--t's no one like you. M. Gaston Blondin, the proprietor of that modish little restaurant Chez Ma Tante, was not a man who delighted to honour many of his clientele. The rich, the beautiful, the notorious and the well-born might wait in vain to be signed out and paid special attention. in the rarest cases did M. Blondin, with gracious condescension, greet a guest, accompany him to a privileged table, and exchange with him suitable and apposite remarks. On this particular night, M. Blondin had exercised his royal prerogative three times--once for a duchess, once for a famous racing peer, and once for a little man of comical appearance with immense black moustaches and who, a casual ooker would have thought, could bestow no favour on Chez Ma Tante by his presence t. M. Blondin, however, was positively fulsome in his attentions. Though clients had been told for the last half-hour that a table was not to be had, one mysteriously appeared, placed in a most favourable position. M. Blondin conducted the client to it with every appearance of empressement. But, natury, t is always a table, M. Poirot! How I wish that you would honour us oftener. Hercule Poirot smiled, remembering that past incident a dead body, a waiter, M. Blondin, and a very lovely lady had played a part. You are too amiable, M. Blondin, he said. And you are alone, M. Poirot? Yes, I am alone. Oh, well, Jules will compose a little meal that will be a poem--positively a poem! Women, however charming, have this disadvantage, they distr the mind from food! You will enjoy your dinner, M. Poirot, I that. , as to e--- A technical conversation ensued. Jules, the maitre d'htel, assisting. Before departing, M. Blondin lingered a moment, lowering his voice confidentiy. You have grave affairs on hand? Poirot shook his head. I am, alas, a man of leisure, he said sadly. I have made the economies in my time and I have the means to enjoy a of idleness. I envy you. No, no, you would be unwise to do so. I can assure you, it is not so gay as it sounds. He sighed. How true is the saying that man was forced to invent work in to escape the strain of having to think. M. Blondin threw up his hands. But t is so much! T is travel! Yes, t is travel. Already I have done not so badly. This ter I sh visit Egypt, I think. The climate, they say, is superbl One will escape from the fogs, the greyness, the monotony of the constantly fing rain. Ah! Egypt, breathed M. Blondin. One can even voyage t , I believe, by train, escaping sea travel except the Channel. Ah, the sea, it does not agree with you? Hercule Poirot shook his head and shuddered slightly. I, too, said M. Blondin with sympathy. Curious the effect it has upon the stomach. But upon certain stomachs! T are people on whom the motion makes no impression whatever. They uy enjoy it! An unfairness of the good God, said M. Blondin. He shook his head sadly, and brooding on the impious thought, withdrew. Smooth-footed, deft-handed waiters ministered to the table. Toast Melba, butter, an ice-pail, the adjuncts to a meal of quality. The negro orchestra broke into an ecstasy of strange discordant noise. London danced. Hercule Poirot looked on, registering impressions in his neat ly mind. How bored and weary most of the faces were! Some of those stout men, however, were enjoying themselves . . . was a patient endurance seemed to be the sentiment exhibited on their partners' faces. The fat woman in purple was looking radiant .... Undoubtedly the fat had certain compensations in . . . a zest--a gustos-denied to those of more fashionable contours. A good sprinkling of young peoplesome vacant looking--some bored--some definitely unhappy. How absurd to c youth the time of happiness--youth the time of est vulnerability! His glance softened as it rested on one particular couple. A well-matched pair, t broad-shouldered man, slender delicate girl. Two bodies that moved in a rhythm of happiness. Happiness in the place, the hour, and in each other. The dance ped abruptly. Hands clapped and it started again. After a second encore the couple returned to their table c by Poirot. The girl was flushed, laughing. As she sat, he could study her face as it was lifted laughing to her companion. T was something else beside laughter in her eyes. Hercule Poirot shook his head doubtfully. She cares too much, that little one, he said to himself. It is not safe. No, it is not safe. And then a word caught his ear. Egypt. Their voices came to him clearly--the girl's.young, fresh, arrogant with just a trace of soft-sounding foreign Rs, and the man's pleasant, low-toned, well-bred English. I'm not counting my chickens before they're hatched, Simon. I tell you Linnet 't let us down! I might let her down. Nonsense it's just the right job . As a matter of f I think it is . . . I haven't rey any doubts as to my capability. And I mean to make good r sake! The girl laughed softly, a laugh of pure happiness. We'll wait three months--to make sure you don't the sack. And then-- And then I'll endow thee with my worldly goods--that's the hang of it, isn't it? And as I say, we'll go to Egypt for our honeymoon. Damn the expense! I've always wanted to go to Egypt my . The Nile and the pyramids and the sand... He said, his voice slightly indistinct: We'll see it toher, Jackie... toher. 't it be marvellous? I der. Will it be as marvellous to you as it is to me? Do you rey care as much as I do? Her voice was suddenly sharp--her eyes dilated--almost with fear. The man's answer came with an equal sharpness: Don't be absurd, Jackie. But the girl repeated: I der... Then she shrugged hr shoulders: Let's dance. Hercule Poirot murmured to himself: Un qui aime et un qui se laisse aimer. Yes, I der too. vii Joanna Southwood said: Ah, but people don't run true to in love affairs. Linnet shook her head impatiently. Then she changed the subject. I must go and see Mr. Pierce about those plans. Plans? Yes, some dreadful insanitary old cottages. I'm having them pulled down and the people moved. How sanitary and public-spirited of you, darling. They'd have had to go anyway. Those cottages would have overlooked my swimming pool. Do the people who live in them like going? Most of them are delighted. One or two are being rather stupid about it--rey tiresome, in f. They don't seem to realise how vastly improved their living conditions will be! But you're being quite high-handed about it, I presume. My dear Joanna, it's to their advantage rey. Yes, dear, I'm sure it is. Compulsory benefit. Linnet frowned. Joanna laughed. Come , you are a tyrant, admit it. A beneficent tyrant if you like! I'm not the least bit a tyrant. But you like your own way! Not especiy. Linnet Ridgeway, you can look me in the face and tell me of any one occasion on which you've failed to do exly as you wanted? Oh, yes, 'heaps of times'--just like that--but no concrete example. And you simply can't think up one, darling, however hard you try! The triumphal progress of Linnet Ridgeway in her golden car. Linnet said sharply: You think I'm selfish? No--just irresistible. The combined effect of and charm. Everything goes down before you what you can't with you with a smile. Result: Linnet Ridgeway, the Girl Who Has Everything. Don't be ridiculous, Joanna? Of course it's disgusting, darling! You'll probably terribly bored and blas by and by. In the meantime enjoy the triumphal progress in the golden car. I der, I rey do der, what will happen when you want to go down a street which has a board up saying No Thoroughfare.' Don't be idiotic, Joanna. As Lord dlesham joined them Linnet said, turning to him. Joanna is saying the nastiest things to me. looked alive and eager. T was an excited note in his voice. The expense will be my affair. Yes, darling. A little flutter on the Stock Exchange. With thoroughly satisfory results. I heard this morning. This morning? said Mrs. erton sharply. You had one letter and that-- She ped and bit her lip. Tim looked momentarily undecided whether to be amused or annoyed. Amusement gained the day. And that was from Joanna, he finished coolly. Quite right, Mother. What a queen of detectives you'd make! The famous Hercule Poirot would have to look to his laurels if you were about. Mrs. erton looked rather cross. I just happened to see the handwriting-- And k it wasn't that of a stockbroker? Quite right. As a matter of f it was yesterday I heard from them. Poor Joanna's handwriting/s rather noticeable-- sprawls about over the envelope like an inebriated spider. What does Joanna say? Any s? Mrs. erton strove to make her voice sound casual and ordinary. The ship between her son and his second cousin, Joanna Southwood, always irritated her. Not, as she put it to herself, that t was anything in it. She was quite sure t wasn't. Tim had manifested a sentimental interest in Joanna, nor she in him. Their mutual attrion seemed to be founded on gossip and the possession of a large number of s and acquaintances in common. They both liked people and discussing people. Joanna had an amusing if caustic tongue. It was not because Mrs. erton feared that Tim might f in love with Joanna that she found herself alway becoming a little stiff in manner if Joanna were present or when letters from her arrived. It was some other feeling hard to defineperhaps an unackledged jealousy in the unfeigned pleasure Tim always seemed to take in Joanna's society. He and his mother were such companions that the sight of him absorbed and interested in another woman always startled Mrs. erton slightly. She fancied, too, that her own presence on these occasions set some barrier between the two members of the younger generation. Often she had come upon them eagerly absorbed in some conversation, and at sight of her their talk had wavered, had seemed to include her rather too purposefully and as in duty bound. Quite definitely, Mrs. erton did not like Joanna Southwood. She thought her insincere, affected and essentiy superficial. She found it very hard to prevent herself saying so in unmeasured tones. In answer to her question, Tim pulled the letter out of his pocket and glanced through it. It was quite a long letter, his mother noted. Nothing much, he said. The Devenishes are ting a divorce. Old Monty's been had up for being drunk in charge of a car. dlesham's gone to Canada. Seems he was pretty badly hit when Linnet Ridgeway turned him down. She's definitely going to marry this land agent person. How extraordinary! Is he very dreadful? No, no, not at . He's one of the Devonshire Doyles. No , of course--and he was uy engaged to one of Linnet's best s. Pretty thick, that. I don't think it's at nice, said Mrs. erton fiushing Tim flashed her a quick affectionate glance. I k, darling. You don't approve of snaffling other people's husbands and that sort of thing. In my day we had our standards, said Mrs. erton. And a very good thing too! adays young people seem to think they can just go about doing anything they choose. So the is yours, not mine. He smiled teasingly at her as he folded the letter and put it away again. Mrs. erton let the thought just flash across her mind: Most letters he shows to me. He reads me snippets from Joanna's. But she put the unworthy thought away from her, and decided, as ever, to behave like a gentlewoman. Is Joanna enjoying ? she asked. So so. Says she thinks of ing a delicatessen shop in Mayfair. She always talks about being hard up, said Mrs. erton with a tinge of spite. But she goes about everyw and her clothes must her a lot. She's always beautifully dressed. Ah, well, said Tim. She probably doesn't pay for them. No, Mother, I don't mean what your Edwardian mind suggests to you. I just mean quite litery that she s her bills unpaid. I k how people manage to do that. It's a kind of special gift, said Tim. If you have sufficiently extravagant tastes, and absolutely no sense of values, people will give you any amount of . Yes, but you come to the Court in the end like poor Sir George Wode. You have a soft spot for that old horse coper--probably because he ced you a rosebud in 1879 at a dance. I wasn't born in 1879, Mrs. erton retorted with spirit. Sir George has charming manners and I 't have you cing him a horse coper. I've heard funny stories about him from people that k. You and Joanna don't mind what you say about peopleanything will do so long as it's sufficiently ill-natured. My dear, you're quite heated. I didn't k old Wode was such a favourite of yours. You don't realise how hard it is for him-having to sell Wode H. He cared terribly about that place. Tim suppressed the easy retort. After , who was he to judge? Instead he said thoughtfully: You k, I think you're not far wrong t. Linnet asked him to come down and see what she'd done to the place and he refused quite rudely. Of course. She ought to have kn better than to ask him. And I believe he's quite venomous about her--mutters things under his breath whe he sees her. Can't forgive her for having giving him an absolutely top for the wormeaten family estate. And you can't understand that? Mrs. erton spoke sharply. Frankly, said Tim calmly, I can't. Why live in the past? Why cling on to things that have been? Excitement, perhaps. Novelty. The joy of king what may turn up from day to day. Instead of inheriting a useless tr of land, the pleasure of making rself by your own brains and skill. That, dear, is rather tless. And quite inappropriate to-day What about this Egypt plan? Well-- That's settled. We've both always wanted to see Egypt. When do you suggest? Oh, next month. January's about time t. We'll enjoy the delightful society in this hotel a few weeks longer. Tim! said Mrs. erton reproachfully. Then she added guiltily. I'm afraid I promised Mrs. Leech that you'd go with her to the police station. She doesn't understand any Spanish. Tim made a grimace. About her ring? The blood red ruby of the horseleech's daughter? Does she still persist in thinking it's been stolen? I'll go if you like, but it's a waste of time. She'll some wretched chambermaid into trouble. I distinctly saw it on her finger when she went into the sea that day. It came in the water and she noticed. She says she is quite sure she took it and left it on her dressing-table. Well, she didn't. I saw it with my own eyes. The woman's a fool. Any woman's a fool who goes prancing into the sea in December pretending the water's quite warm just because the sun happens to be shining rather brightly at the moment. Stout women oughtn't to be owed to bathe anyway. They look so revolting in bathing dresses. Mrs. erton murmured: I rey feel I ought to give up bathing. Tim gave a shout of laughter. I don't. You and I along rather comfortably without outside distrions. You'd like it if Joanna were . I wouldn't.His tone was unexpectedly resolute. You're wrong t. Joanna amuses me, but I don't rey like her, and to have her around much s on my nerves. I'm thankful she isn't . I should be quite resigned if I were to see Joanna again. He added, almost below his breath: T's one woman in the world I've got a real respect and admiration for. And I think, Mrs. erton, you k very well who that woman is. His mother blushed and looked quite confused. T aren't very many rey nice women in the world. You happen to be one of them. ix In an apartment overlooking Central Park in York, Mrs. Robson exclaimed: If that isn't just too lovely! You rey are the luckiest girl, Cornelia. Cornelia Robson flushed responsively. She was a big clumsy-looking girl with brown dog-like eyes. Oh, it will be derful, she gasped. Old Miss Van Schuyler inclined her head in a satisfied fashion at this correct attitude on the part of poor relations. I've always dreamed of a trip to Europe, sighed Cornelia. But I just didn't feel I'd ever t. Miss Bowers will come with me as usual, of course, said Miss Van Schuyler. But as a social companion I find her --very . T are many little things that Cornelia can do for me. I'd just love to, Cousin Marie, said Cornelia eagerly. Well, well, then that's settled, said Miss Van Schuyler. Just run and find Miss Bowers, my dear. It's time for my egg nog. Cornelia departed. What about 'em? Surely you're not going over to tackle 'em? You're mad! I'm not suggesting you--or I--should go to England. What's the big idea, then? Pennington smoothed out the letter on the table. Linnet's going to Egypt for her honeymoon. Expects to be t a month or more .... Egypt--eh ? Rockford considered. Then he looked up and met the other's glance. Egypt, he Said, that's your idea! Yes--a meeting. Over on a trip. Linnet and her husband-- honeymoon atmosp. It might be done. Again the senior partner of Carmichael, Grant & Carmichael uttered his chareristic grunt. Jim Fanthorp re-read the letter which had just arrived by Air Mail from Egypt. ... It seems wicked to be writing business letters on such a day. We have spent a week at Mena House and made an expedition to the Fayum. The day after tomorrow we are going up the Nile to Luxor and Assuan by stearaer, and perhaps on to Khartoum. When we went into Cook's this morning to see about our tickets who do you think was the first person I saw--my American trustee Andrew Pennington. I think you met him two years ago when he was over. I had no idea he was in Egypt and he had no idea that I was! Nor that I was married! My letter, telling him of my marriage, must have just missed him. He is uy going up the Nile on the same trip that we are. Isn't it a coincidence? Thank you so much for you have done in this busy time. I . . . As the young man was about to turn the page, Mr. Carmichael took the letter from him. That's , he said. The rest doesn't matter. Well, what do you think? His nephew considered for a moment--then he said: Well--I think--not a coincidence... The other nodded approval. Like a trip to Egypt? he barked out. You think that's advisable? I think t's no time to . But why me? Use your brains, boy, use your brains. Linnet Ridgeway has met you, no more has Pennington. If you go by air you may t in time. I--I don't like it, sir. What am I to do? Use your eyes. Use your ears. Use your brains--if you've got any. And, if necessary--. I--I don't like it. Perhaps not--but you've got to do it.' It'snecessary? In my opinion, said Mr. Carmichael, it's absolutely vital. xii Mrs. Otterbourne, readjusting the turban of native material that she wore draped round her head, said fretfully: I rey don't see why we shouldn't go on to Egypt. I'm sick and tired of Jerusalemi As her daughter made no reply, she said: You might at least answer when you're spoken to. Rosalie Otterbourne was looking at a spaper reproduction of a face. Below it was written: Mrs. Simon Doyle, who before her marriage was the well-kn society beauty, Miss Linnet Ridgeway. Mr. and Mrs. Doyle are spending their honeymoon in Egypt. Rosalie said: You'd like to move on to Egypt, Mother? Yes, I would, Mrs. Otterbourne snapped. I consider they've treated us in a most cavalier fashion . My being is an advertisement--I ought to a special reduction in . When I hinted as much I consider they were most impertinent--most impertinent. I told them exly what I thought of them. The girl sighed. She said: One place is very like another. I wish we could right away. And this morning, went on Mrs. Otterbourne, the manager uy had the impertinence to tell me that the rooms had been booked in advance and that he would require ours in two days' time. So we've got to go somew. Not at . I'm quite prepared to fight for my rights. Rosalie murmured: I suppose we might as well go on to Egypt. It doesn't make any difference. It's certainly not a matter of or death, said Mrs. Otterbourne. But t she was quite wrong--for a matter of and death was exly what it was. [Small logotype (EMA)]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media Group. 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