III
Jane Olivera came running along the path. Her hair streamlined back behind her. Her eyes were
wide with fear. She gasped¹: “Howard?”
Howard Raikes said lightly:
“Hallo, Jane. I’ve just been saving your uncle’s life.”
“Oh!” She stopped. “You have?”
“Your arrival certainly seems to have been very opportune², Mr.—er—” Blunt hesitated.
“This is Howard Raikes, Uncle Alistair. He’s a friend of mine.”
Blunt looked at Raikes—he smiled.
“Oh!” he said. “So you are Jane’s young man! I must thank you.”
With a puffing³ noise as of a steam engine at high pressure Julia Olivera appeared on the scene.
She panted out:
“I heard a shot. Is Alistair—Why—” She stared blankly at Howard Raikes. “You? Why, why,
how dare you?”
Jane said in an icy voice:
“Howard has just saved Uncle Alistair’s life, mother.”
“What? I—I—”
“This man tried to shoot Uncle Alistair and Howard grabbed him and took the pistol away from
him.”
Frank Carter said violently:
“You’re bloody⁴ liars⁵, all of you.”
Mrs. Olivera, her jaw⁶ dropping, said blankly:
“Oh!” It took her a minute or two to readjust her poise⁷. She turned first to Blunt.
“My dear Alistair! How awful! Thank God you’re safe. But it must have been a frightful⁸ shock.
I—I feel quite faint myself. I wonder—do you think I could have just a little brandy?”
Blunt said quickly:
“Of course. Come back to the house.”
She took his arm, leaning on it heavily.
Blunt looked over his shoulder at Poirot and Howard Raikes.

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