Chapter 18 In Queen Victoria Street

Mr James Ryder was rather surprised when a card bearing the name of M. Hercule Poirot was brought to him.
He knew that the name was familiar but for the moment he could not remember why. Then he said to himself:
"Oh, that fellow!" And told the clerk to show the visitor in.
M. Hercule Poirot was looking very jaunty¹. In one hand he carried a cane². He had a flower in his buttonhole.
"You will forgive my troubling you, I trust," said Poirot. "It is this affair of the death of Madame Giselle."
"Yes?" said Mr Ryder. "Well, what about it? Sit down, won't you? Have a cigar?"
"I thank you, no. I smoke always my own cigarettes. Perhaps you will accept one?"
Ryder regarded Poirot's tiny cigarettes with a somewhat dubious³ eye.
"Think I'll have one of my own, if it's all the same to you. Might swallow one of those by mistake." He laughed heartily⁴.
"The inspector⁵ was round here a few days ago," said Mr Ryder, when he had induced his lighter⁶ to work. "Nosey, that's what those fellows are. Can't mind their own business."
"They have, I suppose, to get information," said Poirot mildly.
"They needn't be so offensive about it," said Mr Ryder bitterly. "A man's got his feelings and his business reputation to think about?"
"You are, perhaps, a little oversensitive."
"I'm in a delicate position, I am," said Mr Ryder. "Sitting where I did - just in front of her - well, it looks fishy⁷, I suppose. I can't help where I sat. If I'd known that woman was going to be murdered, I wouldn't have come by that plane at all. I don't know, though, perhaps I would."
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Has good come out of evil," asked Poirot, smiling.
"It's funny, your saying that. It has and it hasn't, in a manner of speaking. I mean I've had a lot of worry. I've been badgered. Things have been

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