Seventeen
Chief Inspector¹ Neele was sitting behind his desk looking very official and formal. He greetedPoirot politely and motioned him to a chair. As soon as the young man who had introduced Poirotto the presence had left, Chief Inspector Neele’s manner changed.
“And what are you after now, you secretive old devil?” he said.
“As to that,” said Poirot, “you already know.”
“Oh yes, I’ve rustled² up some stuff but I don’t think there’s much for you from that particularhole.”
“Why call it a hole?”
“Because you’re so exactly like a good mouser. A cat sitting over a hole waiting for the mouseto come out. Well, if you ask me, there isn’t any mouse in this particular hole. Mind you, I don’tsay that you couldn’t unearth³ some dubious⁴ transactions. You know these financiers. I daresaythere’s a lot of hoky-poky business, and all that, about minerals and concessions⁵ and oil and allthose things. But Joshua Restarick Ltd. has got a good reputation. Family business—or used to be—but you can’t call it that now. Simon Restarick hadn’t any children, and his brother AndrewRestarick only has this daughter. There was an old aunt on the mother’s side. Andrew Restarick’sdaughter lived with her after she left school and her own mother died. The aunt died of a strokeabout six months ago. Mildly potty, I believe — belonged to a few rather peculiar⁶ religioussocieties. No harm in them. Simon Restarick was a perfectly⁷ plain type of shrewd businessman,and had a social wife. They were married rather late in life.”
“And Andrew?”
“Andrew seems to have suffered from wanderlust. Nothing known against him. Never stayedanywhere long, wandered about South Africa, South America, Kenya and a good many otherplaces. His brother pressed him to come back more than once, but he wasn’t having any. He didn’tlike London or business, but he seems to have had the Restarick family

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