“Yes, yes. M. Poirot’s rooms. Yes, Captain Hastings speaking. Oh, it’s you, Mr. McNeil! (McNeil and Hodgson were Poirot’s solicitors.) I’ll tell him. Yes, we’ll come round at once.”

I replaced the receiver and turned to Poirot, my eyes dancing with excitement.

“I say, Poirot, there’s a woman there. Friend of Claud Darrell’s. Miss Flossie Monro. McNeil wants you to come round.”

“At the instant!” cried Poirot, disappearing into his bedroom, and reappearing with a hat.