“Let me see,” M. Papopolous looked innocently up at the ceiling, “that was the lady who died on the Blue Train, was it not? I saw a mention of it in the papers, but there was no suggestion of foul play.”

“In the interests of justice,” said Poirot, “it was thought best to suppress that fact.”

There was a pause.

“And in what way can I assist you, M. Poirot?” asked the dealer politely.

“ Voilà ,” said Poirot, “I shall come to the point.” He took from his pocket the same box that he had displayed at Cannes, and, opening it, he took out the rubies and pushed them across the table to Papopolous.