“Poirot,” I said, “a change of air would do you good.”
“You think so, mon ami ?”
“I am sure of it.”
“Eh—eh?” said my friend, smiling. “It is all arranged, then?”
“You will come?”
“Where do you propose to take me?”
“Brighton. As a matter of fact, a friend of mine in the City put me on to a very good thing, and—well, I have money to burn, as the saying goes. I think a weekend at the Grand Metropolitan would do us all the good in the world.”