Before I knew where I was we were standing on the platform, bareheaded and minus our valises, whilst the train disappeared into the night. I was furious. But Poirot paid no attention.

“Imbecile that I have been!” he cried. “Triple imbecile! Not again will I vaunt my little grey cells!”

“That’s a good job at any rate,” I said grumpily. “But what is this all about?”

As usual, when following out his own ideas, Poirot paid absolutely no attention to me.

“The tradesmen’s books⁠—I have left them entirely out of account! Yes, but where? Where? Never mind, I cannot be mistaken. We must return at once.”

Easier said than done. We managed to get a slow train to Exeter, and there Poirot hired a car. We arrived back at Crabtree Manor in the small hours of the morning. I pass over the bewilderment of the Bakers when we had at last aroused them. Paying no attention to anybody, Poirot strode at once to the study.