“You do not catch my meaning, I see,” said Poirot, smiling enigmatically. “Now I should like to make a few inquiries at the Bank.”
Miss Kenyon, indeed, made so sure of the correctness of her inference that she acted upon it without further consideration.
"We have come to bear tidings from the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne," Retief said solemnly. A perfumed slave girl offered grapes.
McCray didn't know they were Hatcher's people, of course. He did not know even that they were animate beings, for they lacked all the features of animals that he had been used to. No eyes. No faces. Their detached members, bobbing about seemingly at random, did not appear to have any relation to the irregular spheres that were their owners.
Persephone felt his hold upon her relax, and though she tried to keep him from falling, he slipped from her grasp and sank unconscious to the floor.
His mind returned again to the statesman, Themistocles. He had been the last person to see Ladice alive, and it was known for certain that she was among those who ascended the Acropolis with Kyrsilus. Although it was first reported that all of that brave little band had been slaughtered, rumor had been rife that some of the younger women had been spared—but only to meet a worse fate; that of captivity in the harems of the Persians. If that had been Ladice’s fate, far better that she had met death with the others on the Acropolis! But Ladice did not love him. Oh, the sting of that realization! Ladice knew of the wild life that he had led and of the drunken orgies in which he had participated. Perhaps it was presumptuous for him to think with love upon a girl of such stainless character as Ladice, but had he not vowed by all the gods that he would live an upright life and had he not kept that vow for nearly four years?
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