for Ralph Paton’s mysterious girl?” I inquired.
“I might do that on my own account,” said Caroline. “No, this is a special thing M. Poirot wants me to find out for him.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“He wants to know whether Ralph Paton’s boots were black or brown,” said Caroline with tremendous solemnity.
I stared at her. I see now that I was unbelievably stupid about these boots. I failed altogether to grasp the point.
“They were brown shoes,” I said. “I saw them.”
“Not shoes, James, boots. M. Poirot wants to know whether a pair of boots Ralph had with him at the hotel were brown or black. A lot hangs on it.”