“Well, really, Poirot,” I burst out. “I don’t think you’ve distinguished yourself this time. Surely your questions were very inadequate.”

“You think so, Hastings?” Poirot looked at me appealingly. “I was bouleversé , yes. What would you have asked?”

I considered the question carefully, and then outlined my scheme to Poirot. He listened with what seemed to be close interest. My monologue lasted until we had nearly reached home.

“Very excellent, very searching, Hastings,” said Poirot, as he inserted his key in the door and preceded me up the stairs. “But quite unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary!” I cried, amazed. “If the man was poisoned⁠—”