“I have no patience with you,” cried Poirot. He turned round on them and angrily shook his fist in Hipolyte’s face. “Am I to stop here all day, arguing with a couple of imbeciles thus? It is the truth I want. If you will not give it to me, that is your lookout. For the last time, when did Monsieur le Comte arrive at the Villa Marina⁠—Tuesday morning or Wednesday morning? ”

“Wednesday,” gasped the man, and behind him Marie nodded confirmation.

Poirot regarded them for a minute or two, then inclined his head gravely.

“You are wise, my children,” he said quietly. “Very nearly you were in serious trouble.”

He left the Villa Marina, smiling to himself.

“One guess confirmed,” he murmured to himself. “Shall I take a chance on the other?”