“Well, it is difficult to explain. You see, my friend, you have a nature so honest, and a countenance so transparent, that⁠— enfin , to conceal your feelings is impossible! If I had told you my ideas, the very first time you saw Mr. Alfred Inglethorp that astute gentleman would have⁠—in your so expressive idiom⁠—‘smelt a rat’! And then, bon jour to our chances of catching him!”

“I think that I have more diplomacy than you give me credit for.”

“My friend,” besought Poirot, “I implore you, do not enrage yourself! Your help has been of the most invaluable. It is but the extremely beautiful nature that you have, which made me pause.”

“Well,” I grumbled, a little mollified. “I still think you might have given me a hint.”