to be?"

  "With a fair amount of accuracy."

  Edward Ferrier paused a minute, then he began speaking. Carefully,

  methodically, he outlined the story.

  It was not an edifying story. Accusations of shaniciess chicanery, of

  share juggling, of a gross misuse of I:)arty funds. Thie chages were

  leveled against the late Prime Minister, John Hammett. They showed him

  to be a dishonest rascal, a gigantic confidence trickster, who had used

  his position to amass ;t vast.private fortune.

  The Prime Minister's quiet voice stopped at last.

  The Home Secretary groaned. He spluttered out, "It's

  monstrous-monstrousl This fellow, Perry, who edits the rag, ought to be

  shot!"

  Hercule Poirot said, "These so-called revelations are to appear in the

  X-Ray News?"

  "Yes."

  "What steps do you propose to take about them?"

  Ferrier said slowly, "-I'I)ey constitute a I-)rivate attack on

  .John Hainmett. It is open to him to sue the paper for libel."

  "Will he do that?"

  'No."

  'Why not?"

  Ferrier said, "It is probable that there is nothing the X-Ray News would

  like better. The I)ui)licity given them would be enormous. Their

  defense wotti(i be fair coinment and that the statements corn ' plained

  of were true.

  The whole business would be exhaustively held up to view in a blaze of

  limelight."

  " Still, if the case went against them, the damages would be extreniely

  heavy."

  Ferrier said slowly, "It might not go against them."

  "Why?"

  Sir George said primly, "I really think that-"

  But Edward Ferrier was already speaking.

  "Because what they intend to )Lint is-the truth."

  I

  A groan burst from Sir George Conway, outraged at such unparlianientary

  frankness. He cried out: "Edward, my dear fellow. We don't admit,

  surely-"

  The ghost of a smile passed over Edward Ferrier's tired

  face.

  He said, "Unfortunately, George, there are times when the stark truth

  lias got to be told. This is one of them."

  Sir George exclaitne(l, "You un(terstand, M. Poirot, all this is

  strictly in confidence. Not olle word-"

  Ferrier interrupted him. He said, "M. Poirot understands that." He

  went on slowly: "What he may not uliderstand is tilis: the whoic fut-e

  of the People's Party is at stake. Iolin H;mett, M. l'o-ot, was the

  People's Party.

  He stood for what it represents to the beol),Ie of Englan(lhe stood for

  decency and honesty. No one )las ever thought us brilliant. We litx7e

  mti(l(llc(l zin(i blundered. Blit we have stood for- the tra(litio of

  (loing one's best-;Ill(l we have stood, too, for fu(Iental honesty. Our

  dis;ister is tills-tli;tt the nn wlio w;is our fig-eliea(l, the Honest

  Man of the beol)le, 1)ar ex(:ellece-ty-ns out to have been one of the

  worst crooks of tfus -eneration."

  Allother groan I)xirst fi-oni Sir George.

  Poirot asked, "Yoli knew nothing of all this?"

  Again the smile flaslic(l across the weary face. Ferrier said, "Yoti

  may not believe me, Nf. Poirot, but like everyone else I was completely

  (leceiveki. I never understood my wife's etirioxis attitude of reserve

  toward her father. I un(lersta(i it now. She knew Is essential

  character."

  He 1)atised and the said, "When the truth began to leak otit, I was

  liorrified, incredulous. We insisted on my father-in-law's resignation

  on the grounds of in-health and we set to work to-to clean up the iness,

  shall I say?"

  Sir George groaned. "The Augean stablest"

  Poirot started.

  Ferrier said, "It will prove, I fear, too Herculean a task for tis.

  On(:e the facts become I)ul)lic, there will be a wave of reaction all

  over the country. The Government will fall.

  'I'liere will ])e a General Election and in all pi-ol)al)ility

  Everliar(I an(i his I)arty will be returned to power. You know

  Everhard's I)olicy."

  Sir George spluttered. "A firebrand-a complete firebrand."

  Ferrier said gravely, "Everhard has ability-but he is reckless,

  belligerent, and utterly tactless. His supporters are inept and

  vacillating-it would be practically a dictatorship."

  Hercule Poirot nodded.

  Sir George bleated out, "If only the whole thing can be hushed up. . .

  ."

  Slowly the Premier shook his head. It was a movement of defeat.

  Poirot said, "You do not believe that it can be hushed up?"

  Ferrier said, "I sent for you, M. Poirot, as a last hope.

  In my opinion, this business is too big, too many people know about it

  for it to be successfully concealed. The only two methods open to

  us-which are, to put it bluntly, the use of force, or the adoption of

  bribery-cannot really hope to succeed. The Home Secretary compared our

  trouble with the cleansing of the Augean stables. It needs, M. Poirot,

  the violence of a river in spate, the disruption of the great natural

  forces of nature-nothing less, in fact, than a miracle."

  "It needs, in fact, a Hercules," said Poirot, nodding his head with a

  pleased expression.

  He added, "My name, remember, is Hercule."

  Edward Ferrier said, "Can you perform miracles, M.

  Poirot?"

  " It is why you sent for me, is it not? Because you thought that I

  might?"

  "That is true. I realized that if salvation were to be achieved, it

  could only come through some fantastic and completely unorthodox

  suggestion."

  He paused a minute, then he said, "But perhaps, M.

  Poirot, you take an ethical view of the situation? John Hammctt was a

  crook, the legend of John Hanimett must be exploded. Can one build an

  honest house on dishonest foundations? I do not know. But I do know

  that I want to try." He smiled with a sudden sharp bitterness. "The

  politician wants to remain in office-as usual from the higliest

  motives."

  Hercle Poirot rose.

  He sai(t, "Monsieur, my experience in the police force has not, perhaps,

  allowed me to think very highly of politicians. If John Hammett were in

  office-I would not lift a finger-no, not a little finger. But I know

  something about you. I have been told, by a man who is really great,

  one of the greatest scientists and brains of the day, that you area

  sound man. I will do what I can."

  He bowed and left the room.

  Sir George burst out, "Well, of all the damned cheek-"

  But Edward Ferrier, still smiling, said, "It was a compliment."

  On his way downstairs, Hercule Poirot was interceptiedby a fair-haired

  woman.

  She said, "Please come into my sitting-room, M. Poirot."

  He bowed and followed her.

  She shtit the door, niotioned him to a chair, and offered him a

  cigarette. She sat down opposite him. She said quietly:

  "You have just seen my husband-and he has told you -about my father."

  Poirot looked at her with attention. He saw a tall woman, still

  handsome, with character and intelligence in lier face. Mrs. Ferrier

  was a popular figure.
As the wife of the Prime Minister, she naturally

  came in for a good share of limelight. As the daughter of her father,

  her popularity was even greater. Dagmar Ferrier represented the popular

  ideal of English womanhood.

  She was a devoted wife, a fond mother, she shared her husband's love of

  country life. She interested herself in just those aspects of public

  life which were generally felt to be I)roper spheres of womanly

  activity. She dressed well, but never in an ostentatiously fashionable

  manner. She devoted much of lier time and activity to large-scale

  charities, she liact inaugurated special schemes for the relief of the

  wives of tineployed men. She was looked up to by the wliole nation and

  wzts a most valuable asset to the party.

  Hercule Poirot said, "You must be terribly worried,

  Madame." ,

  "Oli, I am-you don't know how much. For years I have been

  dreading-something."

  Poirot said, "You had no idea of what was actually going on?"

  She shook her head. "No-not in the least. I only knew that my father

  was not-was not what everyone thought him. I realized, from the time

  that I was a child, that he was a-a litimbug."

  Her voice was deep and bitter. She said, "It is through marrying me

  that Edward-that Edward will lose everything."

  Poirot said in a quiet voice, "Have you any enemies, Madame?"

  She looked up at him, surprised.

  "Enemies? I (font think so."

  Poirot said thoughtfully, "I think you have.... Have you courage,

  Madame? There is a great campaign afootagainst your husband-and against

  yourself. You must prepare to defend yourself."

  She cried, "But it doesn't matter about me. Only about Edwardl"

  Poirot said, "The one includes the other. Remember, Madame, you are

  Caesar's wife."

  He saw her color ebb. She leaned forward.

  She said, "What is it you are trying to tell me?"

  Percy Perry, Editor of the X-Ray News, sat behind his desk smoking.

  He was a small man, with a face like a weasel.

  He was saying in a soft, oily voice, "We'll give 'em the dirt, all

  right. Lovely-lovelyl Oh, boy!"

  His second in command, a thin, spectacled youth, said uneasily, "You're

  not nervous?"

  "Expecting strong-arm stuff? Not them. Haven't got the nerve. Woul(I't

  do them any good, either. Not the way we've got it farmed out-in this

  country and on the Continet and America."

  The other said, "They must be in a pretty good stew.

  Won't they do anything?"

  "They'll send someone to talk pretty-" A buzzer sounded. Percy Perry

  picked up a receiver.

  He said, "Who do you say? Right, send him up."

  He put the receiver down-grinned.

  "They've got that high-toned Belgian dick onto it. He's coming up now

  to do his stuff. Wants to know if we'll play ball."

  Hercule Poirot came in. He was immaculately dresseda white camellia in

  his buttonhole.

  Percy Perry said, "Pleased to meet you, M. Poirot. On your way to the

  Royal Enclosure at Ascot? No? My mistake."

  Hercule Poirot said, "I am flattered. One hopes to present a good

  apl-)earance. It is even more important"-his eyes roamed innocently

  over the editor's face and somewhat slovenly attire-"when one has few

  natural advantages."

  Perry said shortly, "What do you want to see me about?"

  Poirot leaned forward, tapped him on the knee, and said with a beaming

  smile, "Blackmail."

  "What the devil do you mean, blackmail?"

  "I have heard-the little bird has told me-that on occasions you have

  been on the point of publishing certain very damaging statements in your

  so spirituel paper-then, there has been a pleasant little increase in

  your bank balance-and after all, those statements have not been

  published."

  Poirot leaned back and nodded his head in a satisfied sort of way.

  "Do you realize that what you're suggesting amounts to slander?"

  Poirot smiled confidently.

  "I am sure you will not taken offense."

  "I do take offense! As to blackmail, there is no evidence of my ever

  having blackmailed anybody."

  "No, no, I am quite sure of that. Yon misunderstood me. I was not

  threatening you. I was lea(Iing tip to a simple question. Hozy much?"

  "T don't know what you're talking about," said Percy Perry.

  "A matter of national importance, M. Perry."

  They exchanged a significant glance.

  Percy Perry said, "I'm a reformer, M. Poirot. I want to see politics

  cleaned up. I'm opposed to corruption. Do you know what the state of

  politics is in this country? The Augean stables, no more, no less."

  "Tiens!" said Hercule Poirot. "You, too, use that phrase."

  "And what is needed," went on the editor, "to cleanse those stables is

  the great purifying flood of public opinion."

  Hercule Poirot got up. He said, "I applaud your sentimeats."

  He added, "It is a pity that you do not feel in need of money."

  Percy Perry said hurriedly, "Here, wait a sec-I didn't say that exactly.

  . . ."

  But Hercule Poirot had gone through the door.

  His excuse for later events is that he does not like blackmailers.

  Everitt Dashwood, the cheery young man on the staff of The Branch,

  clapped Hercule Poirot affectionately on the back.

  He said, "There's dirt and dirt, my boy. My dirt's clean dirt-that's

  all."

  "I was not suggesting that you were on a par with Percy Perry."

  "Damned little bloodsucker. He's a blot on our profession. We'd all

  down him if we could."

  "It happens," said Hercule Poirot, "that I am engaged at the moment on a

  little matter of clearing up a political scandal."

  "Cleaning out the Augean stables, eh?" said Dashwood.

  "Too much for you, my I)oy. Oilly hope is to (livei-t the Thanies and

  wash away the Houses of Parliailielit."

  "You are cynical," s;ti(i Hercule Poirot, sliaking Is

  head.

  "Iknow the world, that's all."

  Poirot said, "You, I think, are just the man I seek. You have a

  reckless disposition, you are the good sport, you like something that is

  out of the usual."

  "And granting all that?"

  "I have a little scheme to put into action. If my ideas are right,

  there is a sensational plot to unmask. That, my friend, shall be a

  scoop for your paper."

  "Can (lo," said Dashwood, cheerfully.

  "It will concern a scurrilous plot against a woman."

  "Better and better. Sex stuff always goes."

  "Then sit down and listen."

  People were talking.

  In the "Goose and Feathers" at Little Wimplington:

  "Well, I don't believe it. John Hammett, he was always an honest man,

  he was. Not like some of these political folk."

  "That's what they say about all swindlers before they're found out."

  "Thousands, they say he made, out of that Palestine Oil business. just

  a crook deal, it was."

  "Whole lot of 'em tarred with the same brush. Dirty crooks, every one

  of 'em."

  "You wouldn't find Everhard doing that. He's one of the old school."
>
  "Eh, but I can't believe as John Hammett was a wrong.

  lun. You can't believe all these papers say."

  "Ferrier's wife was 'is daughter. Have you seen what it says about

  her?"

  They poi-ed over a much-thumbed copy of the X-Ray News.

  Caesa,ls wife? We hear that a certain highly-placed political lady zvas

  seen in very strange surroundings the othe)-day. Complete with

  hergigolo. Oh, Dagmar, Dagmar, how could you be so naughty?

  A rustic voice said slowly, "Mrs. Ferrier's not that kind.

  Gigolo? That's one of these dago skunks."

  Another voice said, "You never can tell with women.

  The whole bunch of 'em wrong juns, if you ask me."

  People were talking.

  "But, darling, I believe it's absolutely true. Naomi had it from Paul

  and he had it from Andy. She's absolutely depraved."

  "But she was always so terribly dowdy and proper and opening bazaars."

  "Just camouflage, darling. They say she's a nymphomaniac. Well, I

  meanl It's all in the X-Ray Nezos. Oli, not right out, but you can read

  between the lines. I don't know how they get hold of these things."

  "What (lo you think of all Chis I:)olit-ical scandal touch?

  They say her father embezzled the party funds."

  People were talking.

  "I (ion't like to think of it, and that's a fact, Mrs. Rogers.

  I mean, I always thought Mrs. Ferrier was a really nice wonian."

  :'Do you think all these awful things are true?"

  'As I say, I don't like to think it of her. Why, slie opened a bazaar

  in Pelchester only last June. I was as near to her as I am to that

  sofa. And she had slicli a pleasant smile."

  "Yes, but what I say is there's no smoke withotit fire."

  "Well, of course that's trije. Oh, dear, it seems as though you can't

  believe in anyonel"

  Edward Ferrier, his face white and strained, said to Poirot, "These

  attacks on my wife! 'I'liey're scLiri-ilous-absolutely scurrilousl I'm

  bringing an action against that vile rag."

  Hercule Poirot said, "I do not advise you to do so."

  'But these damned lies have got to be stopped."

  'Are you sure they are lies?"

  "Goci (lan you, yest"

  Po-ot s;tid, his head held a little on one side, "What does your wife

  say?"

  For a nioent, Ferrier looked taken aback.

  "She says it is best to take no notice.... But I can't do

  that-evei-yl)ody is talking."

  Hercule Poirot said, "Yes, everybody is talking."

  And then came the small, bald announcement in all the papers: Mrs.

  Ferrier has had a slight nervous breakdown.

  She has gone to Scotland to recuperate.

  Conjectures, rumors-positive information that Mrs. Ferrier was not in

  Scotland, had never been to Scotland.

  Stories, scandalous stories, of where Mrs. Ferrier really was.

  And, again, people talking.

  "I tell yoti Andy saw her. At that frightful place! She was drunk or

  (loped and with an awful Argentine gigoloRaino. Yon. knowl"

  More t;ilking.

  Mrs. Ferrier had gone off with an Argentine dancer.

  She had been seen in Paris, doped. She had been taking drugs for years.

  She drank like a fish.

  Slowly, the righteous mind of England, at first unbelieving, hardened

  against Mrs. Ferrier. "Seems as though there must be somctlng in it!"

  "That isn't the sort of woman to be the Prinie Minister's wife."