Lenox waited politely, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“I have a piece of news,” continued Poirot. “You will, perhaps, tell your friend. M. Kettering was arrested tonight for the murder of his wife.”

“You want me to tell Katherine that?” asked Lenox. She breathed rather hard, as though she had been running; her face, Poirot thought, looked white and strained⁠—rather noticeably so.

“If you please, Mademoiselle.”

“Why?” said Lenox. “Do you think Katherine will be upset? Do you think she cares?”

“I don’t know, Mademoiselle,” said Poirot. “See, I admit it frankly. As a rule I know everything, but in this case, I⁠—well, I do not. You, perhaps, know better than I do.”