I had been turning over an idea in my head, and I felt that the moment had now come to broach it. Yet I was a little chary of doing so. John, I knew, had a horror of any kind of publicity, and was an easygoing optimist, who preferred never to meet trouble halfway. It might be difficult to convince him of the soundness of my plan. Lawrence, on the other hand, being less conventional, and having more imagination, I felt I might count upon as an ally. There was no doubt that the moment had come for me to take the lead.

“John,” I said, “I am going to ask you something.”

“Well?”

“You remember my speaking of my friend Poirot? The Belgian who is here? He has been a most famous detective.”

“Yes.”

“I want you to let me call him in⁠—to investigate this matter.”

“What⁠—now? Before the postmortem?”