“I have no doubt whatever of it. To begin with, see, they try to get me out of England. That fails. Then, in the Dartmoor affair, we step in and save their victim from the gallows. And yesterday, once again, we interfere with their plans. Assuredly, they will not leave the matter there.”

As I reflected on this, there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply, a man stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He was a tall, thin man, with a slightly hooked nose and a sallow complexion. He wore an overcoat buttoned up to his chin, and a soft hat well pulled down over his eyes.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, for my somewhat unceremonious entry,” he said in a soft voice, “but my business is of a rather unorthodox nature.”

Smiling, he advanced to the table and sat down by it. I was about to spring up, but Poirot restrained me with a gesture.

“As you say, monsieur, your entry is somewhat unceremonious. Will you kindly state your business?”