"You are suspicious," said Rhoda.
She scribbled some names on a piece of paper and gave it to him.
Battle rose.
"Well, thank you very much, Miss Meredith," he said, "As Miss Dawes says, you seem to have led a particularly blameless life.
I don't think you need worry much.
It's odd the way Mr. Shaitana's manner changed to you.
You'll excuse my asking, but he didn't ask you to marry him - or - er - pester you with attentions of another kind?"
"He didn't try to seduce her," said Rhoda helpfully, "if that's what you mean."
Anne was blushing.
"Nothing of the kind," she said. "He was always most polite and - and - formal.
It was just his elaborate manners that made me uncomfortable."
"And little things he said or hinted?"
"Yes - at least - no.
He never hinted things."
"Sorry. These lady killers do sometimes.
Well, good night, Miss Meredith, thank you very much.
Excellent coffee.
Good night, Miss Dawes."
"There," said Rhoda as Anne came back into the room after shutting the front door after Battle. "That's over and not so very terrible.
He's a nice fatherly man, and he evidently doesn't suspect you in the least.
It was all ever so much better than I expected."
Anne sank down with a sigh.
"It was really quite easy," she said. "It was silly of me to work myself up so.
I thought he'd try to browbeat me - like K.C.'s on the stage."
"He looks sensible," said Rhoda. "He'd know well enough you're not a murdering kind of female." She hesitated and then said, "I say, Anne, you didn't mention being at Croftways.
Did you forget?"
Anne said slowly, "I didn't think it counted. I was only there a few months.
And there's no one to ask about me there.
I can write and tell him if you think it matters, but I'm sure it doesn't.
Let's leave it."
"Right, if you say so."
Rhoda rose and turned on the radio.
A raucous voice said,
"You have just heard the Black Nubian play 'Why Do You Tell Me Lies, Baby?'"
Chapter 15 MAJOR DESPARD
Major Despard came out of the Albany, turned sharply into Regent Street, and jumped on a bus.
It was the quiet time of day; the top of the bus had very few seats occupied.
Despard made his way forward and sat down on the front seat.
He had jumped on the bus while it was going.
Now it came to a halt, took up passengers, and made its way once more up Regent Street.
A second traveler climbed the steps, made his way forward, and sat down in the front seat on the other side.
Despard did not notice the newcomer, but after a few minutes a tentative voice murmured,
"It is a good view of London, is it not, that one gets from the top of a bus?"
Despard turned his head.
He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face cleared.
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur Poirot.
I didn't see it was you.
Yes, as you say, one has a good bird's-eye view of the world from here.
It was better, though, in the old days, when there wasn't all this caged-in-glass business."
Poirot sighed.