Japp stared at him a few minutes longer, but Poirot seemed to have forgotten us both. The detective shook his head sadly at me, and murmuring, “Poor old fellow! War’s been too much for him!” gently withdrew from the room.

As Poirot still seemed sunk in a daydream, I took a sheet of paper, and amused myself by scribbling notes upon it. My friend’s voice aroused me. He had come out of his reverie, and was looking brisk and alert.

“ Que faites vous là, mon ami? ”

“I was jotting down what occurred to me as the main points of interest in this affair.”

“You become methodical⁠—at last!” said Poirot approvingly.

I concealed my pleasure. “Shall I read them to you?”

“By all means.”