Inspector Sims: Is that Mr Poirot? Inspector Sims here. Things are beginning to sit up and look pretty[157] in that little matter you and I know of.

Detective Poirot: Tell me, I pray of you.

Sims: Well, here’s item No. 1 — and a pretty big item. Miss B. left a small legacy to her niece and everything else to Katrina. In consideration of her great kindness and attention — that’s the way it was put. That alters the complexion of things. Item No. 2 — nobody but Katrina handled that cachet[158].

Poirot: You can be sure of that?

Sims: The girl herself doesn’t deny it. What do you think of that?

Poirot: Extremely interesting.

Sims: We only want one thing more — evidence of how the poison came into her possession. That oughtn’t to be difficult.

Poirot: But so far you haven’t been successful?

Sims: I’ve barely started. The inquest was only this morning.

Poirot: What happened at it?

Sims: Adjourned for a week.

Poirot: And the young lady — Katrina?

Sims: I’m detaining her on suspicion. Don’t want to run any risks. She might have some funny[159] friends in the country who’d try to get her out of it.

Poirot: No, I don’t think she has any friends.

Sims: Really? What makes you say that, Mr Poirot?

Poirot: It’s just an idea of mine. There were no other “items” as you call them?

Sims: Nothing that’s strictly relevant. Miss B. seems to have been monkeying a bit with her shares lately — must have dropped quite a tidy sum. It’s rather a funny business, one way and another, but I don’t see how it affects the main issue — not at present that is.

Poirot: No, perhaps you are right. Well, my best thanks to you. It was most amiable of you to ring me up.

Sims: Not at all. I’m a man of my word. I could see you were interested. Who knows you may be able to give me a helping hand before the end.

Poirot: That would give me a great pleasure. It might help you, for instance, if I could lay my hand on a friend of the girl Katrina.

Sims: I thought you said she hadn’t any friends?

Poirot: I was wrong. She has one. (Before the Inspector could ask a further question, Poirot had rung off.)

Washington. — Because medical costs are rising so fast, more and more people are diagnosing their own illnesses or, worse still, those of their friends. The government would do well to make a study of how these nonprofessional diagnoses are affecting the nation’s health picture.

The other day I had a cold. It was just like the ones you see on television. I was sneezing, coughing and looking mournfully at my wife. I called my secretary at the office and said I wouldn’t be in because I felt lousy.

“You must have one of those “eight-hour things” that’s going all around town,” she said. “You’ll feel perfectly well tomorrow.”

Eight hours seemed to be a reasonable time to have a cold, and I was looking forward to staying in bed, particularly since the Yankees and Red Sox were playing a crucial game to get into the American League playoffs.

My sister called, and I told her I had one of those “eight-hour things that’s been going all around.”

“Are you sure it’s only an “eight-hour thing”?” she asked. “It could be the “24-hour bug”[160] Harold had last week. Do you have any fever?”

“A little — maybe 100.”

“That’s the “24-hour bug” for sure. Drink lots of fluids and take aspirin, and you’ll be able to shake it off.”

I really hadn’t counted on staying in bed for 24 hours, but it’s stupid to fight a bug. My other sister called up 10 minutes later. “Edith says you’ve got a 24-hour bug.”

“I don’t know if it’s a bug or just a cold.”

“Is your nose red from blowing it?”

“Yah, sure it is. Why do you ask?”

“Then you don’t have a “24-hour bug.” You have a “48-hour virus”.”

“My secretary said all I had was an “eight-hour thing.” How come you moved it up to 48 hours?”

“The “eight-hour thing” is entirely different. You feel funny but your nose doesn’t get red when you blow it. The “24-hour bug” has all the symptoms of the “eight-hour” one, except that you cough a lot. The “48-hour virus” makes you sneeze, cough and perspire while you’re sleeping. You have to stay in bed for two days.”

“But I can’t stay in bed for two days.”

“Look,” my sister said. “If you don’t want medical advice, don’t ask me.”

I think I might have been all right except that my secretary told Healy I was home with the flu.