probably have done the same in his place. I do think he might have trusted me with the secret, though. I wouldn’t have let him down.”
Poirot rapped gently on a table and cleared his throat significantly.
“The board meeting’s going to begin,” said Flora. “ M. Poirot hints that we mustn’t talk. But just tell me one thing. Where is Ralph? You must know if anyone does.”
“But I don’t,” cried Ursula, almost in a wail. “That’s just it, I don’t.”
“Isn’t he detained at Liverpool?” asked Raymond. “It said so in the paper.”
“He is not at Liverpool,” said Poirot shortly.
“In fact,” I remarked, “no one knows where he is.”
“Except Hercule Poirot, eh?” said Raymond.
Poirot replied seriously to the other’s banter. “I know everything. Remember that.”
Geoffrey Raymond lifted his eyebrows.
“Everything?” He whistled. “Whew! that’s a tall order.”
“Do you mean to say you can really guess where Ralph Paton is hiding?” I asked incredulously.
“You call it guessing. I call it knowing, my friend.”
“In Cranchester?” I hazarded.
“No,” replied Poirot gravely, “not in Cranchester.”
He said no more, but at a gesture from him the assembled party took their seats. As they did so, the door opened once more and two other