“Yes, James, or whatever his name is. Seems he laid ’em a wager in the servants’ hall that he could get taken for the old man by his nibs⁠—that’s you, Captain Hastings⁠—and would hand him out a lot of spy stuff about a Big Four gang.”

“Impossible!” I cried.

“Don’t you believe it. I marched our gentleman straight to Hatton Chase, and there was the real Ryland in bed and asleep, and the butler and the cook and God knows how many of them to swear to the wager. Just a silly hoax⁠—that’s all it was⁠—and the valet is with him.”

“So that was why he kept in the shadow,” murmured Poirot.

After Japp had gone we looked at each other.