He shook hands with his host and was introduced to the others.
He seemed particularly gratified at meeting Battle.
"Why, you're one of the big noises at Scotland Yard, aren't you?
This is interesting!
Too bad to make you talk shop but I warn you I shall have a try at it.
Always been interested in crime.
Bad thing for a doctor, perhaps.
Mustn't say so to my nervous patients - ha, ha!"
Again the door opened.
"Mrs. Lorrimer."
Mrs. Lorrimer was a well-dressed woman of sixty.
She had lovely cut features, beautifully arranged gray hair, and a clear, incisive voice.
"I hope I'm not late," she said, advancing to her host. She turned from him to greet Doctor Roberts with whom she was acquainted.
The butler announced, "Major Despard."
Major Despard was a tall, lean, handsome man, his face slightly marred by a scar on the temple.
Introductions completed, he gravitated naturally to the side of Colonel Race - and the two men were soon talking sport and comparing their experiences on safari.
For the last time the door opened and the butler announced,
"Miss Meredith."
A girl in the early twenties entered.
She was of medium height and pretty.
Brown curls clustered in her neck, her gray eyes were large and wide apart. Her face was powdered but not made up.
Her voice was slow and rather shy.
She said, "Oh, dear, am I the last?"
Mr. Shaitana descended on her with sherry and an ornate and complimentary reply.
His introductions were formal and almost ceremonious.
Miss Meredith was left sipping her sherry by Poirot's side.
"Our friend is very punctilious," said Poirot with a smile.
The girl agreed. "I know. People rather dispense with introductions nowadays.
They just say,
'I expect you know everybody,' and leave it at that."
"Whether you do or you don't?"
"Whether you do or don't.
Sometimes it makes it awkward - but I think this is more awe inspiring." She hesitated and then said, "Is that Mrs. Oliver the novelist?"
Mrs. Oliver's bass voice rose powerfully at that minute speaking to Doctor Roberts.
"You can't get away from a woman's instinct, Doctor. Women know these things."
Forgetting that she no longer had a brow, she endeavored to sweep her hair back from it but was foiled by the fringe.
"That is Mrs. Oliver," said Poirot.
"The one who wrote The Body in the Library?"
"That identical one."
Miss Meredith frowned a little.
"And that wooden-looking man - a superintendent, did Mr. Shaitana say?"
"From Scotland Yard."
"And you?"
"And me?"
"I know all about you, Monsieur Poirot.
It was you who really solved the A.B.C. crimes."
"Mademoiselle, you cover me with confusion."
Miss Meredith drew her brows together.
"Mr. Shaitana," she began and then stopped. "Mr. Shaitana -"
Poirot said quietly, "One might say he was 'crime minded.'