“No,” said Poirot drily, “with the Press⁠—a much more deadly weapon.”

He looked at Katherine and she smiled at him, just shaking her head.

“Are you not just turning back into an oyster again, Monsieur Poirot?”

“No, no; I do not wish to make mysteries. See, I will tell you everything. I suspect this man of being the active party in the sale of the jewels of Monsieur Van Aldin. I tax him with it, and in the end I get the whole story out of him. I learn where the jewels were handed over, and I learn, too, of the man who paced up and down outside in the street⁠—a man with a venerable head of white hair, but who walked with the light, springy step of a young man⁠—and I give that man a name in my own mind⁠—the name of ‘Monsieur le Marquis.’ ”

“And now you have come to London to see Mr. Van Aldin?”