Twenty

Hercule Poirot looked up at the fa?ade of the dignified Georgian house inwhat had been until recently a quiet street in an old-fashioned markettown. Progress was rapidly overtaking it, but the new supermarket, theGifte Shoppe, Margery’s Boutique, Peg’s Café, and a palatial new bank, hadall chosen sites in Croft Road and not encroached on the narrow HighStreet.

The brass knocker on the door was brightly polished, Poirot noted withapproval. He pressed the bell at the side.

It was opened almost at once by a tall distinguished- looking womanwith upswept grey hair and an energetic manner.

“M. Poirot? You are very punctual. Come in.”

“Miss Battersby?”

“Certainly.” She held back the door. Poirot entered. She deposited hishat on the hall stand and led the way to a pleasant room overlooking anarrow walled garden.

She waved towards a chair and sat down herself in an attitude of ex-pectation. It was clear that Miss Battersby was not one to lose time in con-ventional utterances.

“You are, I think, the former Principal of Meadowfield School?”

“Yes. I retired a year ago. I understand you wished to see me on the sub-ject of Norma Restarick, a former pupil.”

“That is right.”

“In your letters,” said Miss Battersby, “you gave me no further details.”

She added, “I may say that I know who you are, M. Poirot. I should there-fore like a little more information before I proceed further. Are you, forinstance, thinking of employing Norma Restarick?”

“That is not my intention, no.”

“Knowing what your profession is you understand why I should wantfurther details. Have you, for instance, an introduction to me from any ofNorma’s relations?”

“Again, no,” said Hercule Poirot. “I will explain myself further.”

“Thank you.”

“In actual fact, I am employed by Miss Restarick’s father, Andrew Re-starick.”

“Ah. He has recently returned to England, I believe, after many years’

absence.”

“That is so.”

“But you do not bring me a letter of introduction from him?”

“I did not ask him for one.”

Miss Battersby looked at him inquiringly.

“He might have insisted on coming with me,” said Hercule Poirot. “Thatwould have hampered me in asking you the questions that I wish to ask,because it is likely that the answers to them might cause him pain and dis-tress. There is no reason why he should be caused further distress than heis already suffering at this moment.”

“Has anything happened to Norma?”

“I hope not…There is, however, a possibility of that. You remember thegirl, Miss Battersby?”

“I remember all my pupils. I have an excellent memory. Meadowfield, inany case, is not a very large school. Two hundred girls, no more.”

“Why have you resigned from it, Miss Battersby?”

“Really, M. Poirot, I cannot see that that is any of your business.”

“No, I am merely expressing my quite natural curiosity.”

“I am seventy. Is that not a reason?”

“Not in your case, I should say. You appear to me to be in full vigour andenergy, fully capable of continuing your headmistressship for a goodmany years to come.”

“Times change, M. Poirot. One does not always like the way they arechanging. I will satisfy your curiosity. I found I was having less and lesspatience with parents. Their aims for their daughters are shortsighted andquite frankly stupid.”

Miss Battersby was, as Poirot knew from looking up her qualifications, avery well-known mathematician.

“Do not think that I lead an idle life,” said Miss Battersby. “I lead a lifewhere the work is far more congenial to me. I coach senior students. Andnow, please, may I know the reason for your interest in the girl, NormaRestarick?”

“There is some occasion for anxiety. She has, to put it baldly, disap-peared.”

Miss Battersby continued to look quite unconcerned.

“Indeed? When you say ‘disappeared,’ I presume you mean that she hasleft home without telling her parents where she was going. Oh, I believeher mother is dead, so without telling her father where she was going.

That is really not at all uncommon nowadays, M. Poirot. Mr. Restarick hasnot consulted the police?”

“He is adamant on that subject. He refuses definitely.”

“I can assure you that I have no knowledge as to where the girl is. I haveheard nothing from her. Indeed, I have had no news from her since sheleft Meadowfield. So I fear I cannot help you in any way.”

“It is not precisely that kind of information that I want. I want to knowwhat kind of a girl she is—how you would describe her. Not her personalappearance. I do not mean that. I mean as to her personality and charac-teristics.”

“Norma, at school, was a perfectly ordinary girl. Not scholastically brilli-ant, but her work was adequate.”

“Not a neurotic type?”

Miss Battersby considered. Then she said slowly: “No, I would not sayso. Not more, that is, than might be expected considering her home cir-cumstances.”

“You mean her invalid mother?”

“Yes. She came from a broken home. The father, to whom I think shewas very devoted, left home suddenly with another woman—a fact whichher mother quite naturally resented. She probably upset her daughtermore than she need have done by voicing her resentment without re-straint.”

“Perhaps it may be more to the point if I ask you your opinion of the lateMrs. Restarick?”

“What you are asking me for is my private opinion?”

“If you do not object?”

“No, I have no hesitation at all in answering your question. Home condi-tions are very important in a girl’s life and I have always studied them asmuch as I can through the meagre information that comes to me. Mrs. Re-starick was a worthy and upright woman, I should say. Self-righteous, cen-sorious and handicapped in life by being an extremely stupid one!”

“Ah,” said Poirot appreciatively.

“She was also, I would say, a malade imaginaire. A type that would exag-gerate her ailments. The type of woman who is always in and out of nurs-ing homes. An unfortunate home background for a girl—especially a girlwho has no very definite personality of her own. Norma had no markedintellectual ambitions, she had no confidence in herself, she was not a girlto whom I would recommend a career. A nice ordinary job followed bymarriage and children was what I would have hoped for her.”

“You saw—forgive me for asking—no signs at any time of mental insta-bility?”

“Mental instability?” said Miss Battersby. “Rubbish!”

“So that is what you say. Rubbish! And not neurotic?”

“Any girl, or almost any girl, can be neurotic, especially in adolescence,and in her first encounters with the world. She is still immature, andneeds guidance in her first encounters with sex. Girls are frequently at-tracted to completely unsuitable, sometimes even dangerous young men.

There are, it seems, no parents nowadays, or hardly any, with the strengthof character to save them from this, so they often go through a time of hys-terical misery, and perhaps make an unsuitable marriage which ends notlong after in divorce.”

“But Norma showed no signs of mental instability?” Poirot persistedwith the question.

“She is an emotional but normal girl,” said Miss Battersby. “Mental in-stability! As I said before—rubbish! She’s probably run away with someyoung man to get married, and there’s nothing more normal than that!”