PART 3: Breakfast and a shooting party

Poirot looked into the mirror above the sink in this ensuite bathroom. He smoothed his moustache with the tips of his fingers, curling the ends carefully. As he regarded his reflection intently he thought back to the dinner of the previous night. “There iz something most strange about these people” be muttered to himself, closely observing the curl of his moustache. And with a final slight twitch of his nose he left his room and descended the elegant stairs to breakfast.

As he entered the breakfast room Miss Ruth greeted him, “Good morning Monsieur Poirot”
“Mademoiselle.” Poirot made a little bow in the direction of Miss Ruth.
“I trust you slept well?” enquired Lady Cheerton conversationally, pouring Poirot a cup of tea.
“Very well, I thank you,” replied Poirot, accepting the cup and tottering delicately over to an unoccupied seat where he ostentatiously shook out his napkin, sat down and tucked the napkin neatly over his chest in one fluid motion.

Next to him sat Dr Gangle, also with his napkin firmly attached to his chest. In front of him an empty plate.
“You are not eating monsieur?” enquired Poirot
“Oh yes, I’m just waiting ..” began Dr Gangle
“ For what my old bean?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton
“Well, the maid” responded Dr Gangle, apparently confused
At this words the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton and Lady Cheerton burst into ringing laughter. Finally, dabbing a tear from her eye with a corner of her napkin Lady Cheerton spoke, “Breakfast is always self-service.”
“At least in Britain” said Professor Yorde, from the other side of the table
“If it’s good enough for the Queen, it’s good enough here at the Old Rectory” huffed the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton.
“Of.. Of course” stuttered Dr Gangle, wringing his hands slightly and looking feverously down at his empty plate.
Poirot, suddenly thinking back to something which happened the night before, looked at Professor Yorde. He was staring, slightly open-mouthed at Dr Gangle, as if he had suddenly realised something.

At this moment Captain Severs entered the room, “Oh jolly good, breakfast,” he cried, smacking his lips together and rubbing his stomach in anticipation.

After a few more minutes of arrivals a quick scan of the room told Poirot that all the guests from dinner the night before were present except for the one notable absence: Patricia Fansmield.

The final arrival to breakfast was Dr Lilac. As soon as he entered Poirot noticed dark circles around his eyes. He hovered momentarily by the door looking nervous before taking a seat opposite Poirot. He seemed to twitch awkwardly and more than once Poirot saw his flinch slightly after making eye contact with Trevelyan, who sat at the other end of the table, cooling drinking from a cup of black coffee, no hint of discomfort on his impassive face.

“Are you quite well, Dr Lilac?” asked Dr Anne as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took the seat next to him.
“Oh yes, I am quite well. I thank you.” spluttered Dr Lilac. He had seemingly not noticed the arrival of Dr Anne, and jumped slightly.
Dr Anne looked at Dr Lilac, her eyes wide with concern. “John..,” she said in a low voice as she reached out her hand to place it on his forearm, but before she could he pulled his arm away violently simultaneously tugging his shirt sleeve roughly down over his wrist.
“John..?” Dr Anne repeated his name again, in the same low voice and this time Poirot detected a tiniest hint of desperation in her voice.
“Please, Dr Anne, I’m fine… really,” on his final word his voice relaxed, although he continued to clutch at the cuff of the left arm of his shirt.

Poirot looked across at Captain Severs, he had apparently noticed nothing of this rather odd behaviour and was tucking into a hearty portion of bacon, beans and scrambled eggs, “By Jove, I can’t even count the number of beans on my plate” he cried.
“That would be because you served them yourself” remarked Professor Yorde dryly, turning sharply to look at Dr Gangle, who immediately looked down at his now full plate and busied himself positioning food on his fork.

“I’ve arranged for a shooting party to go out after breakfast. Would you care to join us Mr Poirot?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton.
“Mais non monsieur, zee shooting, eet iz not for Poirot. I think I will stay and catch up on my reading.”
“I need to review my papers for the coming seminars, so I’m afraid I’ll have to give it a miss” said Professor Glasgow, draining his coffee cup and placing it unceremoniously back onto the table.
“Your loss,” said the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton cheerfully.
“I also, regret I will not be a member of the party” said Professor Fansmield, “my wife… she feels… a little unwell this morning, and I must attend to her.” He spoke stiffly and there was no trace of concern or affection in his formal vernacular.
“Hangover” whispered Barrat loudly, to nobody in particular. Professor Fansmield shot him a filthy look but made no response.
“Of course” said Lady Cheerton hastily, smiling indulgently over at Professor Fansmield, who returned none of her friendliness and merely turned away.

“So, who exactly will be shooting with me today?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, a little irritably, “Dr Lilac?”
At these words Barrat burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Barrat, what is wrong with you this morning?” demanded Professor Glasgow.
“Oh nothing, nothing” said Barrat hastily, before lapsing once again into a fit of giggles, “I was just thinking that it would all depend on if you’re shooting-up by the woods.”
“Of course we’re shooting near the wood” cried Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton “What the devil’s the matter with you boy?”
Professor Glasgow glowered at Barrat, “I think you need to do some typing Barrat”
“Of course uncle, of course.” Barrat declined his head respectfully and with a wide grin minced from the room, apparently pleased with the minor disruption he had caused.

“Is he not shooting?” asked Lady Cheerton, tilting her head towards the doorway through which Barrat had just passed.
“Oh no, Barrat is far too delicate a boy for such things. I blame his mother, far too soft with the lad if you ask me,” said Professor Glasgow gruffly.

“And what would you know about parenting?” asked Miss Ruth pleasantly, her eyebrows raising slightly.
“Miss Ruth,” gasped Lady Cheerton, astonished.
“Oh, well… nothing, I suppose” said Professor Glasgow staring open-mouthed at her.
“My apologies Professor Glasgow, it was not my intention to be rude” continued Miss Ruth, still smiling amiably. Lady Cheerton nodded at her, satisfied.

“You have no children?” asked Professor Yorde, not raising his eyes from the newspaper he was staring intently at.
“I am not a parent, no” replied Professor Glasgow slowly, each word spoke with a decided deliberation.

There was a moments silence before the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton blustered on. “So, who is coming? I can’t go alone. I need the...” Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton stopped suddenly. His wife regarded him through narrowed eyes, “company.. I need the company.”

“I’ll come” said Professor Yorde, setting down his coffee cup carefully next to his now empty plate.
“Captain Severs?” continued the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, looking questioningly towards the Captain.
“Oh yes, a spot of shooting would be top drawer Reverend,” replied Captain Severs, “I’ll go change directly.”
“I’ll be joining you too” said Dr Gangle.
“And I” said Professor Vector.
Poirot looked across at Professor Vector, who stood by the breakfast buffet and thought it very odd that he had not noticed him this whole breakfast time.
“I’ll give it a miss” drawled Trevelyan as the Reverend turned to look expectantly at him.

“Good, then it’s all settled” smiled Lady Cheerton, “I hope you gentlemen catch your prey.”