compliments to Zia Papopolous, and he told many interesting incidents of his career. The menu was a carefully selected one, and the wine was excellent.
At the close of dinner M. Papopolous inquired politely:
“And the tip I gave you? You have had your little flutter on the horse?”
“I am in communication with—er—my bookmaker,” replied Poirot.
The eyes of the two men met.
“A well-known horse, eh?”
“No,” said Poirot; “it is what our friends, the English, call a dark horse.”
“Ah!” said M. Papopolous thoughtfully.
“Now we must step across to the Casino and have our little flutter at the roulette table,” cried Poirot gaily.