“Astonishing how often that fact is overlooked.”
“Any news?”
“Dr. Tanios rang up.”
“Still no trace of his wife?”
“No.”
“Then that’s all right.”
“I wonder.”
“Dash it all, Poirot, you don’t think she’s been bumped off, do you?”
Poirot shook his head doubtfully.
“I confess,” he murmured, “that I should like to know where she is.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “She’ll turn up.”
“Your cheerful optimism never fails to delight me, Hastings!”
“My goodness, Poirot, you don’t think she’ll turn up in parcels or dismembered in a trunk?”
Poirot said slowly:
“I find the anxiety of Dr. Tanios somewhat excessive—but no more of that. The first thing to do is to interview Miss Lawson.”
“Are you going to point out that little error over the brooch?”
“Certainly not. That little fact remains up my sleeve until the right moment comes.”
“Then what are you going to say to her?”
“That, mon ami, you will hear in due course.”
“More lies, I suppose?”
“You are really offensive sometimes, Hastings. Anybody would think I enjoyed telling lies.”
“I rather think you do. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
“It is true that I sometimes compliment myself upon my ingenuity,” Poirot confessed naively.
I could not help giving a shout of laughter. Poirot looked at me reproachfully and we set off for Clanroyden Mansions.
We were shown into the same crowded sitting room and Miss Lawson came bustling in, her manner even more incoherent than usual.
“Oh, dear, M. Poirot, good morning. Such a to-do—rather untidy, I’m afraid. But then, everything is at sixes and sevens this morning. Ever since Bella arrived—”
“What is that you say? Bella?”
“Yes, Bella Tanios. She turned up half an hour ago—and the children—completely exhausted, poor soul! Really, I don’t know what to do about it. You see, she’s left her husband.”
“Left him?”
“So she says. Of course, I’ve no doubt she’s fully justified, poor thing.”