Labors of Hercules by Agatha Christie

Author:Agatha Christie [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0708901190
Publisher: Dell
Published: 2012-06-30T18:00:42+00:00

VIII

Harold Waring was down by the lake. He had been walking feverishly for over an hour, trying by sheer physical energy to

still the clamour of despair that had

attacked him.

234

He came at last to the spot where he had

first noticed the two grim women who

held his life and Elsie's in their evil talons.

He said aloud:

"Curse them! Damn them for a pair

of devilish blood-sucking harpies!"

A slight cough made him spin round. He

found himself facing the luxuriantly

moustached stranger who had just come

out from the shade of the trees.

Harold found it difficult to know what

to say. This little man must have almost

certainly overheard what he had just said.

Harold, at a loss, said somewhat

ridiculously:

"Oh --er --good-afternoon."

In perfect English the other replied:

"But for you, I fear, it is not a good

afternoon ?"

"Well --er --I --" Harold was in difficulties

again.

The little man said:

"You are, I think, in trouble. Monsieur ?

Can I be of any assistance to you ?"

"Oh no thanks, no thanks! Just blowing

off steam, you know."

The other said gently:

"But I think, you know, that I could help

235

you. I am correct, am I not, in connecting

your troubles with two ladies who were

sitting on the terrace just now ?"

Harold stared at him.

"Do you know anything about them?"

He added: 'Who are you, anyway?3'

As though confessing to royal birth the

little man said modestly:

"/ am Hercule Poirot. Shall we walk

a little way into the wood and you shall

tell me your story ? As I say, I think I can

aid you."

To this day, Harold is not quite certain

what made him suddenly pour out the

whole story to a man to whom he had only

spoken a few minutes before. Perhaps

it was overstrain. Anyway, it happened.

He told Hercule Poirot the whole story.

The latter listened in silence. Once or

twice he nodded his head gravely. When

Harold came to a stop the other spoke

dreamily.

"The Stymphalean Birds, with iron

beaks, who feed on human flesh and who

dwell by the Stymphalean Lake. . . . Yes,

it accords very well.35

"I beg your pardon," said Harold

staring.

236

Perhaps, he thought, this curious-looking

little man was mad!

Hercule Poirot smiled.

"I reflect, that is all. I have my own way

of looking at things, you understand. Now

as to this business of yours. You are very

unpleasantly placed.3'

Harold said impatiently:

"I don't need you to tell me that!"

Hercule Poirot went on:

"It is a serious business, blackmail.

These harpies will force you to pay — and

pay—and pay again! And if you defy

them, well, what happens ?"

Harold said bitterly:

"The whole thing comes out. My

career's ruined, and a wretched girl who's

never done anyone any harm will be put

through hell, and God knows what the end

of it all will be!"

"Therefore," said Hercule Poirot,

"something must be done!"

Harold said baldly: "What ?"

Hercule Poirot leaned back, half-closing

his eyes. He said (and again a doubt of his

sanity crossed Harold's mind) :

"It is the moment for the castanets

of bronze."

237

Harold said:

"Are you quite mad ?55

The other shook his head. He said:

"Mats non! I strive only to follow the

example of my great predecessor, Hercules.

Have a few hours' patience, my friend.

By tomorrow I may be able to deliver you

from your persecutors.55

IX

Harold Waring came down the following

morning to find Hercule Poirot sitting

alone on the terrace.

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