Lenox refused to be sidetracked.

“I saw it the night he came here,” she said thoughtfully. “The way he looked at you; and you are not his usual type⁠—just the opposite. Well, I suppose it is like religion⁠—you get it at a certain age.”

“Mademoiselle is wanted at the telephone,” said Marie, appearing at the window of the salon. “ M. Hercule Poirot desires to speak with her.”

“More blood and thunder. Go on, Katherine; go and dally with your detective.”

M. Hercule Poirot’s voice came neat and precise in its intonation to Katherine’s ear.