“Yes, Mademoiselle?”

“I⁠—I should like to help you if I could.”

“You are very amiable, Mademoiselle⁠—very amiable.”

Again there was a pause. Poirot did not press her. He was quite content to wait and let her take her own time.

“Ah bah,” said Zia, “after all, why should I not tell you? My father is cautious⁠—always cautious in everything he says. But I know that with you it is not necessary. You have told us it is only the murderer you seek, and that you are not concerned over the jewels. I believe you. You were quite right when you guessed that we were in Nice because of the rubies. They have been handed over here according to plan. My father has them now. He gave you a hint the other day as to who our mysterious client was.”

“The Marquis?” murmured Poirot softly.

“Yes, the Marquis.”