Katherine leant forward, scrutinising the hairs keenly.
Poirot nodded his head slowly several times.
“They suggest nothing to you, I see that, Mademoiselle. And yet—I think somehow that you see a good deal.”
“I have had ideas,” said Katherine slowly, “curious ideas. That is why I ask you what you were doing in Paris, Monsieur Poirot.”
“When I wrote to you—”
“From the Ritz?”
A curious smile came over Poirot’s face.
“Yes, as you say, from the Ritz. I am a luxurious person sometimes—when a millionaire pays.”
“The Russian Embassy,” said Katherine, frowning. “No, I don’t see where that comes in.”
“It does not come in directly, Mademoiselle. I went there to get certain information. I saw a particular personage and I threatened him—yes, Mademoiselle, I, Hercule Poirot, threatened him.”
“With the police?”
“No,” said Poirot drily, “with the Press—a much more deadly weapon.”
He looked at Katherine and she smiled at him, just shaking her head.
“Are you not just turning back into an oyster again, Monsieur Poirot?”
“No, no; I do not wish to make mysteries. See, I will tell you everything. I suspect this man of being the active party in the sale of the jewels of