VI
Hercule Poirot, sitting in front of his electric radiator¹ (and feeling a quiet satisfaction in its neatgeometrical pattern) was giving instructions to his valet and general factotum².
“You understand, Georges?”
“Perfectly³, sir.”
“More probably a flat or maisonette. And it will definitely be within certain limits. South ofthe Park, east of Kensington Church, west of Knightsbridge Barracks and north of Fulham Road.”
“I understand perfectly, sir.”
Poirot murmured.
“A curious little case. There is evidence here of a very definite talent for organization. Andthere is, of course, the surprising invisibility of the star performer—the Nemean Lion himself, if Imay so style him. Yes, an interesting little case. I could wish that I felt more attracted to my client—but he bears an unfortunate resemblance to a soap manufacturer of Liège who poisoned his wifein order to marry a blonde secretary. One of my early?successes.”
Georges shook his head. He said gravely:
“These blondes, sir, they’re responsible for a lot of trouble.”

下一页  尾页