“Come in—come in, my dear fellow. You acted your part à merveille.”
He returned accompanied by the window cleaner, who now held his red hair in his hand and who looked somehow a very different person.
“My friend Mr. Gerald Hemmingway, a very promising young actor.”
“Then there was no window cleaner?” cried Rhoda. “Nobody saw him?”
“I saw,” said Poirot. “With the eyes of the mind one can see more than with the eyes of the body. One leans back and closes the eyes—”
Despard said cheerfully:
“Let’s stab him, Rhoda, and see if his ghost can come back and find out who did it.”
* * *