PART SEVEN DECEMBER 28TH VI

Colonel Johnson said:

“God bless my soul!” Then he said:

“Upon my word!” And finally, once more: “God bless my soul!

He leaned back in his chair and stared at Poirot. He said plaintively¹:

“My best man! What’s the police coming to?”

Poirot said:

“Even policemen have private lives! Sugden was a very proud man.”

Colonel Johnson shook his head.

To relieve his feelings he kicked at the logs in the grate. He said jerkily:

“I always say—nothing like a wood fire.”

Hercule Poirot, conscious of the draughts² round his neck, thought to himself:

“Pour moi, every time the central heating. . . .”

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