“They are just recent acquaintances, I believe. But surely, Poirot, you don’t think for an instant⁠—”

Poirot raised his hand.

“ Tout doucement, mon ami. Have I said that I think anything? All I say is⁠—it is a curious story. And there is nothing to throw light upon it; except perhaps the lady’s name, eh, Hastings?”

“Her name is Stella,” I said stiffly, “but I don’t see⁠—”

Poirot interrupted me with a tremendous chuckle. Something seemed to be amusing him vastly.

“And Stella means a star, does it not? Famous!”

“What on earth⁠—”