夜雨聆风Houses do have an atmosphere,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘This house has abad history.’
Poirot nodded. ‘Yes. There have been people here – several of them –who desired deeply that someone else should die. That is true enough.’
‘I believe it gets hold of one in some way. But now, Poirot, tell me, whatam I to do about all this – Judith and Allerton, I mean. It’s got to be stoppedsomehow. What do you think I’d better do?’
‘Do nothing,’ said Poirot with emphasis.
‘Oh, but –’
‘Believe me, you will do least harm by not interfering.’
‘If I were to tackle Allerton –’
‘What can you say or do? Judith is twenty-one and her own mistress.’
‘But I feel I ought to be able –’
Poirot interrupted me. ‘No, Hastings. Do not imagine that you are cleverenough, forceful enough, or even cunning enough to impose your person-ality on either of those two people. Allerton is accustomed to dealing withangry and impotent fathers and probably enjoys it as a good joke. Judith isnot the sort of creature who can be browbeaten. I would advise you – if Iadvised you at all – to do something very different. I would trust her if Iwere you.’
I stared at him.
‘Judith,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘is made of very fine stuff. I admire hervery much.’
I said, my voice unsteady: ‘I admire her, too. But I’m afraid for her.’
Poirot nodded his head with sudden energy. ‘I, too, am afraid for her,’
