Twenty
Hercule Poirot looked up at the fa?ade of the dignified¹ Georgian house in what had been untilrecently a quiet street in an old-fashioned market town. Progress was rapidly overtaking it, but thenew supermarket, the Gifte Shoppe, Margery’s Boutique, Peg’s Café, and a palatial² new bank, hadall chosen sites in Croft Road and not encroached on the narrow High Street.
The brass³ knocker on the door was brightly polished, Poirot noted⁴ with approval. He pressed thebell at the side.
It was opened almost at once by a tall distinguished-looking woman with upswept grey hair andan energetic manner.
“M. Poirot? You are very punctual. Come in.”
“Miss Battersby?”
“Certainly.” She held back the door. Poirot entered. She deposited his hat on the hall stand andled the way to a pleasant room overlooking a narrow walled garden.
She waved towards a chair and sat down herself in an attitude of expectation. It was clear thatMiss Battersby was not one to lose time in conventional utterances⁵.
“You are, I think, the former Principal of Meadowfield School?”
“Yes. I retired⁶ a year ago. I understand you wished to see me on the subject 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 saythat I know who you are, M. Poirot. I should therefore like a little more information before Iproceed further. Are you, for instance, thinking of employing Norma Restarick?”
“That is not my intention, no.”
“Knowing what your profession is you understand why I should want further details. Have you,for instance, an introduction to me from any of Norma’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 Restarick.”
“Ah. He has recently returned to England, I believe, after many years’ absence.”

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