“He was very useful to you once,” his daughter reminded him.

“That is true,” acknowledged M. Papopolous; “also he has retired from active work, so I hear.”

These interchanges between father and daughter had passed in their own language. Now M. Papopolous turned to the chasseur and said in French:

“ Faîtes monter ce monsieur. ”

A few minutes later Hercule Poirot, exquisitely attired, and swinging a cane with a jaunty air, entered the room.

“My dear M. Papopolous.”