He sighed and folded his hands across his chest.

Hipolyte and Marie were staring at him uneasily. They were at a loss what to make of this unexpected and extremely strange visitor. “Monsieur desires⁠—” murmured Hipolyte mechanically.

“I desire to know why you have lied to the police.”

“Monsieur!” cried Hipolyte; “I⁠—lied to the police? Never have I done such a thing.”

M. Poirot shook his head.

“You are wrong,” he said; “you have done it on several occasions. Let me see.” He took a small notebook from his pocket and consulted it. “Ah, yes; on seven occasions at least. I will recite them to you.”

In a gentle unemotional voice he proceeded to outline the seven occasions.

Hipolyte was taken aback.