“A Major Ellerby, sir⁠—”

Poirot took the words out of his mouth. “Just so. Major Ellerby. Major Ellerby was addicted to drugs, was he not? You travelled about with him. When he was in Bermuda there was some trouble⁠—a man was killed. Major Ellerby was partly responsible. It was hushed up. But you knew about it. How much did Major Ellerby pay you to keep your mouth shut?”

Parker was staring at him open-mouthed. The man had gone to pieces, his cheeks shook flabbily.

“You see, me, I have made inquiries,” said Poirot pleasantly. “It is as I say. You got a good sum then as blackmail, and Major Ellerby went on paying you until he died. Now I want to hear about your latest experiment.”

Parker still stared.

“It is useless to deny. Hercule Poirot knows . It is so, what I have said about Major Ellerby, is it not?”