TRIANGLE AT RHODES

One

Hercule Poirot sat on the white sand and looked out across the sparkling blue water. He wascarefully dressed in a dandified fashion in white flannels¹ and a large panama hat protected hishead. He belonged to the old-fashioned generation which believed in covering itself carefully fromthe sun. Miss?Pamela Lyall, who sat beside him and talked ceaselessly, represented the modernschool of thought in that she was wearing the barest minimum of clothing on her sun-brownedperson.

Occasionally her flow of conversation stopped whilst she reanointed herself from a bottle ofoily fluid which stood be-

side her.

On the farther side of Miss?Pamela Lyall her great friend, Miss?Sarah Blake, lay facedownwards on a gaudily-striped towel. Miss?Blake’s tanning was as perfect as possible and herfriend cast dissatisfied glances at her more than once.

“I’m so patchy still,” she murmured regretfully. “M. Poirot—would you mind? Just below theright shoulder blade—I can’t reach to rub it in properly.”

M. Poirot obliged and then wiped his oily hand carefully on his handkerchief. Miss?Lyall,whose principal interests in life were the observation of people round her and the sound of herown voice, continued to talk.

“I was right about that woman—the one in the Chanel model—it is Valentine Dacres—Chantry, I mean. I thought it was. I recognized her at once. She’s really rather marvellous, isn’tshe? I mean I can understand how people go quite crazy about her. She just obviously expectsthem to! That’s half the battle. Those other people who came last night are called Gold. He’sterribly good-looking.”

“Honeymooners?” murmured Sarah in a stifled² voice.

Miss?Lyall shook her head in an experienced manner.

“Oh, no—her clothes aren’t new enough. You can always tell brides! Don’t you think it’s themost fascinating thing in the world to watch people, M. Poirot, and see what you can find outabout them by just looking?”

“Not just looking, darling,” said Sarah sweetly. “You ask a lot of questions, too.”

“I haven’t even spoken to the Golds yet,” said Miss?Lyall with dignity. “And anyway I don’tsee why one shouldn’t be interested in one’s fellow creatures? Human nature is simply fascinating.

Don’t you think so, M. Poirot?”

This time she paused long enough to allow her companion to reply.

Without taking his eyes off the blue water, M. Poirot replied:

“?a depend.”

Pamela was shocked.

“Oh, M. Poirot! I don’t think anything’s so interesting—so incalculable as a human being!”

“Incalculable? That, no.”

“Oh, but they are. Just as you think you’ve got them beautifully taped—they do somethingcompletely unexpected.”

Hercule Poirot shook his head.

“No, no, that is not true. It is most rare that anyone does an action that is not dans soncaractère. It is in the end monotonous⁴.”

“I don’t agree with you at all!” said Miss?Pamela Lyall.

She was silent for quite a minute and a half before returning to the attack.

“As soon as I see people I begin wondering about them—what they’re like—what relationsthey are to each other—what they’re thinking and feeling. It’s—oh, it’s quite thrilling.”

“Hardly that,” said Hercule Poirot. “Nature repeats herself more than one would imagine. Thesea,” he added thoughtfully, “has infinitely⁵ more variety.”

Sarah turned her head sideways and asked:

“You think that human beings tend to reproduce certain patterns? Stereotyped⁶ patterns?”

“Précisément,” said Poirot, and traced a design in the sand with his finger.

“What’s that you’re drawing?” asked Pamela curiously⁷.

“A triangle,” said Poirot.

But Pamela’s attention had been diverted elsewhere.

“Here are the Chantrys,” she said.

A woman was coming down the beach—a tall woman, very conscious of herself and herbody. She gave a half nod and smile and sat down a little distance away on the beach. The scarletand gold silk wrap slipped down from her shoulders. She was wearing a white bathing dress.

Pamela sighed.

“Hasn’t she got a lovely figure?”

But Poirot was looking at her face—the face of a woman of thirty-nine who had been famoussince sixteen for her beauty.

He knew, as everyone knew, all about Valentine Chantry. She had been famous for manythings—for her caprices, for her wealth, for her enormous sapphire-blue eyes, for her matrimonialventures and adventures. She had had five husbands and innumerable lovers. She had in turn beenthe wife of an Italian count, of an American steel magnate, of a tennis professional, of a racingmotorist. Of these four the American had died, but the others had been shed negligently⁹ in thedivorce court. Six months ago she had married a fifth time—a commander in the navy.

He it was who came striding down the beach behind her. Silent, dark—with a pugnacious¹⁰ jawand a sullen¹¹ manner. A touch of the primeval ape about him.

She said:

“Tony darling—my cigarette case . . .”

He had it ready for her—lighted her cigarette—helped her to slip the straps¹² of the whitebathing dress from her shoulders. She lay, arms outstretched in the sun. He sat by her like somewild beast that guards its prey¹³.

Pamela said, her voice just lowered sufficiently¹⁴:

“You know they interest me frightfully . . . He’s such a brute¹⁶! So silent and—sort ofglowering. I suppose a woman of her kind likes that. It must be like controlling a tiger! I wonderhow long it will last. She gets tired of them very soon, I believe—especially nowadays. All thesame, if she tried to get rid of him, I think he might be dangerous.”

Another couple came down the beach—rather shyly. They were the newcomers of the nightbefore. Mr.?and Mrs.?Douglas Gold as Miss?Lyall knew from her inspection¹⁷ of the hotel visitors’

book. She knew, too, for such were the Italian regulations—their Christian¹⁸ names and their ages asset down from their passports.

Mr.?Douglas Cameron Gold was thirty-one and Mrs.?Marjorie Emma Gold was thirty-five.

Miss?Lyall’s hobby in life, as has been said, was the study of human beings. Unlike mostEnglish people, she was capable of speaking to strangers on sight instead of allowing four days toa week to elapse before making the first cautious advance as is the customary British habit. She,therefore, noting the slight hesitancy and shyness of Mrs.?Gold’s advance, called out:

“Good morning, isn’t it a lovely day?”

Mrs.?Gold was a small woman—rather like a mouse. She was not bad-looking, indeed herfeatures were regular and her complexion¹⁹ good, but she had a certain air of diffidence anddowdiness that made her liable to be overlooked. Her husband, on the other hand, was extremelygood-looking, in an almost theatrical²⁰ manner. Very fair, crisply curling hair, blue eyes, broadshoulders, narrow hips²¹. He looked more like a young man on the stage than a young man in reallife, but the moment he opened his mouth that impression faded. He was quite natural andunaffected, even, perhaps, a little stupid.

Mrs.?Gold looked gratefully at Pamela and sat down near her.

“What a lovely shade of brown you are. I feel terribly underdone!”

“One has to take a frightful¹⁵ lot of trouble to brown evenly,” sighed Miss?Lyall.

She paused a minute and then went on:

“You’ve only just arrived, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Last night. We came on the Vapo d’Italia boat.”

“Have you ever been to Rhodes before?”

“No. It is lovely, isn’t it?”

Her husband said:

“Pity it’s such a long way to come.”

“Yes, if it were only nearer England—”

In a muffled²² voice Sarah said:

“Yes, but then it would be awful. Rows and rows of people laid out like fish on a slab²³. Bodieseverywhere!”

“That’s true, of course,” said Douglas Gold. “It’s a nuisance the Italian exchange is soabsolutely ruinous at present.”

“It does make a difference, doesn’t it?”

The conversation was running on strictly²⁴ stereotyped lines. It could hardly have been calledbrilliant.

A little way along the beach, Valentine Chantry stirred and sat up. With one hand she heldher bathing dress in position across her breast.

She yawned, a wide yet delicate cat-like yawn. She glanced casually²⁵ down the beach. Hereyes slanted²⁶ past Marjorie Gold—and stayed thoughtfully on the crisp, golden head of DouglasGold.

She moved her shoulders sinuously²⁷.She spoke³ and her voice was raised a little higher than itneed have been.

“Tony darling—isn’t it divine—this sun? I simply must have been a sun worshipper once—don’t you think so?”

Her husband grunted²⁸ something in reply that failed to reach the others. Valentine Chantrywent on in that high, drawling voice.

“Just pull that towel a little flatter, will you, darling?”

She took infinite pains in the resettling of her beautiful body. Douglas Gold was looking now.

His eyes were frankly²⁹ interested.

Mrs.?Gold chirped³⁰ happily in a subdued³¹ key to Miss?Lyall.

“What a beautiful woman!”

Pamela, as delighted to give as to receive information, replied in a lower voice:

“That’s Valentine Chantry—you know, who used to be Valentine Dacres—she is rathermarvellous, isn’t she? He’s simply crazy about her—won’t let her out of his sight!”

Mrs.?Gold looked once more along the beach. Then she said:

“The sea really is lovely—so blue. I think we ought to go in now, don’t you, Douglas?”

He was still watching Valentine Chantry and took a minute or two to answer. Then he said,rather absently:

“Go in? Oh, yes, rather, in a minute.”

Marjorie Gold got up and strolled down to the water’s edge.

Valentine Chantry rolled over a little on one side. Her eyes looked along at Douglas Gold.

Her scarlet⁸ mouth curved faintly into a smile.

The neck of Mr.?Douglas Gold became slightly red.

Valentine Chantry said:

“Tony darling—would you mind? I want a little pot of face cream—it’s up on the dressingtable. I meant to bring it down. Do get it for me—there’s an angel.”

The commander rose obediently. He stalked off into the hotel.

Marjorie Gold plunged³² into the sea, calling out:

“It’s lovely, Douglas—so warm. Do come.”

Pamela Lyall said to him:

“Aren’t you going in?”

He answered vaguely³³:

“Oh! I like to get well hotted up first.”

Valentine Chantry stirred. Her head was lifted for a moment as though to recall her husband—but he was just passing inside the wall of the hotel garden.

“I like my dip the last thing,” explained Mr.?Gold.

Mrs.?Chantry sat up again. She picked up a flask³⁴ of sunbathing³⁵ oil. She had some difficultywith it—the screw top seemed to resist her efforts.

She spoke loudly and petulantly³⁶.

“Oh, dear—I can’t get this thing undone³⁷!”

She looked towards the other group—

“I wonder—”

Always gallant³⁸, Poirot rose to his feet, but Douglas Gold had the advantage of youth andsuppleness. He was by her side in a moment.

“Can I do it for you?”

“Oh, thank you—” It was the sweet, empty drawl again.

“You are kind. I’m such a fool at undoing³⁹ things—I always seem to screw them the wrongway. Oh! you’ve done it! Thank you ever so much—”

Hercule Poirot smiled to himself.

He got up and wandered along the beach in the opposite direction. He did not go very far buthis progress was leisurely⁴⁰. As he was on his way back, Mrs.?Gold came out of the sea and joinedhim. She had been swimming. Her face, under a singularly unbecoming bathing cap, was radiant.

She said breathlessly, “I do love the sea. And it’s so warm and lovely here.”

She was, he perceived, an enthusiastic bather.

She said, “Douglas and I are simply mad on bathing. He can stay in for hours.”

And at that Hercule Poirot’s eyes slid over her shoulder to the spot on the beach where thatenthusiastic bather, Mr.?Douglas Gold, was sitting talking to Valentine Chantry.

His wife said:

“I can’t think why he doesn’t come. . . .”

Her voice held a kind of childish bewilderment.

Poirot’s eyes rested thoughtfully on Valentine Chantry. He thought that other women in theirtime had made that same remark.

Beside him, he heard Mrs.?Gold draw in her breath sharply.

She said—and her voice was cold:

“She’s supposed to be very attractive, I believe. But Douglas doesn’t like that type ofwoman.”

Hercule Poirot did not reply.

Mrs.?Gold plunged into the sea again.

She swam away from the shore with slow, steady strokes. You could see that she loved thewater.

Poirot retraced⁴¹ his steps to the group on the beach.

It had been augmented⁴² by the arrival of old General Barnes, a veteran who was usually in thecompany of the young. He was sitting now between Pamela and Sarah, and he and Pamela wereengaged in dishing up various scandals with appropriate embellishments.

Commander Chantry had returned from his errand. He and Douglas Gold were sitting oneither side of Valentine.

Valentine was sitting up very straight between the two men and talking. She talked easily andlightly in her sweet, drawling voice, turning her head to take first one man and then the other in theconversation.

She was just finishing an anecdote⁴³.

“—and what do you think the foolish man said? ‘It may have been only a minute, but I’dremember you anywhere, Mum!’ Didn’t he, Tony? And you know, I thought it was so sweet ofhim. I do think it’s such a kind world—I mean, everybody is so frightfully kind to me always—Idon’t know why—they just are. But I said to Tony—d’you remember, darling—‘Tony, if youwant to be a teeny-weeny bit jealous, you can be jealous of that commissionaire.’ Because hereally was too adorable. . . .”

There was a pause and Douglas Gold said:

“Good fellows—some of these commissionaires.”

“Oh, yes—but he took such trouble—really an immense amount of trouble—and seemed justpleased to be able to help me.”

Douglas Gold said:

“Nothing odd about that. Anyone would for you, I’m sure.”

She cried delightedly:

“How nice of you! Tony, did you hear that?”

Commander Chantry grunted.

His wife sighed:

“Tony never makes pretty speeches—do you, my lamb?”

Her white hand with its long red nails ruffled⁴⁴ up his dark head.

He gave her a sudden sidelong look. She murmured:

“I don’t really know how he puts up with me. He’s simply frightfully clever—absolutelyfrantic with brains—and I just go on talking nonsense the whole time, but he doesn’t seem tomind. Nobody minds what I do or say—everybody spoils me. I’m sure it’s frightfully bad for me.”

Commander Chantry said across her to the other man:

“That your missus in the sea?”

“Yes. Expect it’s about time I joined her.”

Valentine murmured:

“But it’s so lovely here in the sun. You mustn’t go into the sea yet. Tony darling, I don’tthink I shall actually bathe today—not my first day. I might get a chill or something. But whydon’t you go in now, Tony darling? Mr.—Mr.?Gold will stay and keep me company while you’rein.”

Chantry said rather grimly:

“No, thanks. Shan’t go in just yet. Your wife seems to be waving to you, Gold.”

Valentine said:

“How well your wife swims. I’m sure she’s one of those terribly efficient women who doeverything well. They always frighten me so because I feel they despise me. I’m so frightfully badat everything—an absolute duffer, aren’t I, Tony darling?”

But again Commander Chantry only grunted.

His wife murmured affectionately:

“You’re too sweet to admit it. Men are so wonderfully loyal—that’s what I like about them. Ido think men are so much more loyal than women—and they never say nasty things. Women, Ialways think, are rather petty.”

Sarah Blake rolled over on her side towards Poirot.

She murmured between her teeth.

“Examples of pettiness, to suggest that dear Mrs.?Chantry is in any way not absoluteperfection! What a complete idiot the woman is! I really do think Valentine Chantry is very nearlythe most idiotic⁴⁵ woman I ever met. She can’t do anything but say, ‘Tony, darling,’ and roll hereyes. I should fancy she’d got cottonwool padding instead of brains.”

Poirot raised his expressive⁴⁶ eyebrows⁴⁷.

“Un peu sévère!”

“Oh, yes. Put it down as pure ‘Cat,’ if you like. She certainly has her methods! Can’t sheleave any man alone? Her husband’s looking like thunder.”

Looking out to sea, Poirot remarked:

“Mrs.?Gold swims well.”

“Yes, she isn’t like us who find it a nuisance to get wet. I wonder if Mrs.?Chantry will ever gointo the sea at all while she’s out

here.”

“Not she,” said General Barnes huskily. “She won’t risk that makeup⁴⁸ of hers coming off. Notthat she isn’t a fine-looking woman although perhaps a bit long in the tooth.”

“She’s looking your way, General,” said Sarah wickedly. “And you’re wrong about themakeup. We’re all waterproof⁴⁹ and kissproof nowadays.”

“Mrs.?Gold’s coming out,” announced Pamela.

“Here we go gathering⁵⁰ nuts and may,” hummed Sarah. “Here comes his wife to fetch himaway—fetch him away—fetch him away. . . .”

Mrs.?Gold came straight up the beach. She had quite a pretty figure but her plain, waterproofcap was rather too serviceable to be attractive.

“Aren’t you coming, Douglas?” she demanded impatiently. “The sea is lovely and warm.”

“Rather.”

Douglas Gold rose hastily to his feet. He paused a moment and as he did so ValentineChantry looked up at him with a sweet smile.

“Au revoir,” she said.

Gold and his wife went down the beach.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Pamela said critically:

“I don’t think, you know, that that was wise. To snatch your husband away from anotherwoman is always bad policy. It makes you seem so possessive. And husbands hate that.”

“You seem to know a lot about husbands, Miss?Pamela,” said General Barnes.

“Other people’s—not my own!”

“Ah! that’s where the difference comes in.”

“Yes, but General, I shall have learnt a lot of Do Nots.”

“Well, darling,” said Sarah, “I shouldn’t wear a cap like that for one thing. . . .”

“Seems very sensible to me,” said the General. “Seems a nice, sensible little womanaltogether.”

“You’ve hit it exactly, General,” said Sarah. “But you know there’s a limit to the sensiblenessof sensible women. I have a feeling she won’t be so sensible when it’s a case of ValentineChantry.”

She turned her head and exclaimed in a low, excited whisper:

“Look at him now. Just like thunder. That man looks as though he had got the most frightfultemper. . . .”

Commander Chantry was indeed scowling⁵¹ after the retreating husband and wife in asingularly unpleasant fashion.

Sarah looked up at Poirot.

“Well?” she said. “What do you make of all this?”

Hercule Poirot did not reply in words, but once again his forefinger⁵² traced a design in thesand. The same design—a triangle.

“The eternal triangle,” mused⁵³ Sarah. “Perhaps you’re right. If so, we’re in for an excitingtime in the next few weeks.”

 

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