“My friend, an occasion stupendous, unprecedented, never to be repeated, has presented itself! But there is danger, grave danger. I should not even ask you to attempt it.”

If Poirot was trying to frighten me, he was going the wrong way to work, and so I told him. Becoming less incoherent, he unfolded his plan.

It seemed that Ryland was looking for an English secretary, one with a good social manner and presence. It was Poirot’s suggestion that I should apply for the post.

“I would do it, myself, mon ami ,” he explained apologetically. “But, see you, it is almost impossible for me to disguise myself in the needful manner. I speak the English very well⁠—except when I am excited⁠—but hardly so as to deceive the ear; and even though I were to sacrifice my moustaches, I doubt not but that I should still be recognizable as Hercule Poirot.”