But Caroline is seldom daunted for long. With magnificent mendacity, she explained to Poirot that although James laughed at her for doing so, she adhered strictly to a vegetarian diet. She descanted ecstatically on the delights of nut cutlets (which I am quite sure she has never tasted) and ate a Welsh rarebit with gusto and frequent cutting remarks as to the dangers of “flesh” foods.

Afterwards, when we were sitting in front of the fire and smoking, Caroline attacked Poirot directly.

“Not found Ralph Paton yet?” she asked.

“Where should I find him, mademoiselle?”

“I thought, perhaps, you’d found him in Cranchester,” said Caroline, with intense meaning in her tone.

Poirot looked merely bewildered. “In Cranchester? But why in Cranchester?”