He fetched Zia’s cloak, and together they strolled out into the gardens.

“This is where the suicides take place,” said Zia.

Poirot shrugged his shoulders. “So it is said. Men are foolish, are they not, Mademoiselle? To eat, to drink, to breathe the good air, it is a very pleasant thing, Mademoiselle. One is foolish to leave all that simply because one has no money⁠—or because the heart aches. L’amour , it causes many fatalities, does it not?”

Zia laughed.

“You should not laugh at love, Mademoiselle,” said Poirot, shaking an energetic forefinger at her. “You who are young and beautiful.”