II
Poirot called at Scotland Yard and asked for Japp. When he was taken up to the Chief Inspector’s
room: “I want to see Carter,” said Hercule Poirot.
Japp shot him a quick, sideways glance.
He said:
“What’s the big idea?”
“You are unwilling¹?”
Japp shrugged² his shoulders. He said:
“Oh, I shan’t make objections. No good if I did. Who’s the Home Secretary’s little pet? You
are. Who’s got half the Cabinet in his pocket? You have. Hushing up their scandals for them.”
Poirot’s mind flew for a moment to that case that he had named the Case of the Augean Stables.
He murmured, not without complacence:
“It was ingenious, yes? You must admit it. Well imagined, let us say.”
“Nobody but you would ever have thought of such a thing! Sometimes, Poirot, I think you
haven’t any scruples³ at all!”
Poirot’s face became suddenly grave. He said:
“That is not true.”
“Oh, all right, Poirot, I didn’t mean it. But you’re so pleased sometimes with your damned
ingenuity⁴. What do you want to see Carter for? To ask him whether he really murdered Morley?”
To Japp’s surprise, Poirot nodded his head emphatically.
“Yes, my friend, that is exactly the reason.”
“And I suppose you think he’ll tell you if he did?”
Japp laughed as he spoke⁵. But Hercule Poirot remained grave. He said:
“He might tell me—yes.”
Japp looked at him curiously⁶. He said:
“You know, I’ve known you a long time—twenty years? Something like that. But I still don’t
always catch on to what you’re driving at. I know you’ve got a bee in your bonnet⁷ about young
Frank Carter. For some reason or other, you don’t want him to be guilty—”

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