Зло под солнцем / Evil Under the Sun

You said that there was evil done everywhere under the sun. It was almost a quotation from Ecclesiastes.” He paused and then quoted himself. “Yea, also the heart of the sons of men is full of evil, and madness is in their heart while they live.” His face lit up with an almost fanatical light. “I was glad to hear you say that. Nowadays, no one believes in evil. It is considered, at most, a mere negation of good. Evil, people say, is done by those who know no better – who are undeveloped – who are to be pitied rather than blamed.

But, M. Poirot, evil is real! It is a fact! I believe in Evil as I believe in Good. It exists! It is powerful! It walks the earth!”

He stopped. His breath was coming fast. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and looked suddenly apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

Poirot said calmly: “I understand your meaning. Up to a point I agree with you. Evil does walk the earth and can be recognized as such.”

Major Barry cleared his throat. “Talking of that sort of thing, some of these fakir fellers in India – ”

Major Barry had been long enough at the Jolly Roger for everyone to be on their guard against his fatal tendency to embark on long India stories.

Both Miss Brewster and Mrs Redfern burst into speech.

“That’s your husband swimming in now, isn’t it, Mrs Redfern? How magnificent his crawl stroke is. He’s an awfully good swimmer.”

At the same moment Mrs Redfern said:

“Oh, look! What a lovely little boat that is out there with the red sails.

It’s Mr Blatt’s, isn’t it?”

The sailing boat with the red sails was just crossing the end of the bay.

Major Barry grunted: “Fanciful idea, red sails,” but the menace of the story about the fakir was avoided.

Hercule Poirot looked with appreciation at the young man who had just swum to shore. Patrick Redfern was a good specimen of humanity. Lean, bronzed, with broad shoulders and narrow thighs, there was about him a kind of infectious enjoyment and gaiety – a native simplicity that endeared him to all women and most men.

He stood there shaking the water from him and raising a hand in gay salutation to his wife. She waved back, calling out:

“Come up here, Pat.”

“I’m coming.”

He went a little way along the beach to retrieve the towel he had left there. It was then that a woman came down past them from the hotel to the beach. Her arrival had all the importance of a stage entrance. Moreover, she walked as though she knew it.