“That, my friend, will be in the newspapers tomorrow morning.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “But⁠—but it isn’t true! He’s not at Liverpool!”

Poirot beamed on me. “You have the intelligence so quick! No, he has not been found at Liverpool. Inspector Raglan was very loath to let me send this paragraph to the press, especially as I could not take him into my confidence. But I assured him most solemnly that very interesting results would follow its appearance in print, so he gave in, after stipulating that he was, on no account, to bear the responsibility.”

I stared at Poirot. He smiled back at me.

“It beats me,” I said at last, “what you expect to get out of that.”

“You should employ your little grey cells,” said Poirot gravely.

He rose and came across to the bench.