“No,” he said, “he will not do that. The one thing the Comte cannot afford to sacrifice is his social position. At all costs he must stop and brazen it out.”
Van Aldin was still dissatisfied.
“But I don’t see—”
Poirot raised a hand. “Grant me a little moment, Monsieur. Me, I have a little idea. Many people have mocked themselves at the little ideas of Hercule Poirot—and they have been wrong.”
“Well,” said Van Aldin, “go ahead. What is this little idea?”
Poirot paused for a moment and then he said:
“I will call upon you at your hotel at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. Until then, say nothing to anyone.”