“You looked rather queer,” said Lenox. “I say⁠—I hope you don’t mind⁠—I rang up your detective friend, M. Poirot, and asked him to lunch with us in Nice. I said you wanted to see him, as I thought he might not come for me.”

“Did you want to see him then?” asked Katherine.

“Yes,” said Lenox. “I have rather lost my heart to him. I never met a man before whose eyes were really green like a cat’s.”

“All right,” said Katherine. She spoke listlessly. The last few days had been trying. Derek Kettering’s arrest had been the topic of the hour, and the Blue Train Mystery had been thrashed out from every conceivable standpoint.