“Well, his niece, I suppose. He’s recently come into an immense fortune. Left him by Madame Gospoja whose husband was a sugar profiteer under the old regime. They had an affair together once, I believe, and she refused steadfastly to credit the reports of his death.”

“Where did the match take place?”

“In Savaronoff’s own flat. He’s an invalid, as I told you.”

“Many people there to watch it?”

“At least a dozen⁠—probably more.”

Poirot made an expressive grimace.

“My poor Japp, your task is not an easy one.”

“Once I know definitely that Wilson was poisoned, I can get on.”