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“It reminds you of Sherlock Holmes, does it not? The curious incident of the dog in the night. The dog did not howl in the night. That is the curious thing! Ah, well, I am not above stealing the tricks of others.”

“Do you know, M. Poirot, I am completely at sea as to what you are driving at.”

“That is excellent, that. In confidence, that is how I get my little effects.”

Then, as Dr. Roberts still looked rather dazed, Poirot said with a smile as he rose to his feet:

“You may at least comprehend this, what you have told me is going to be very helpful to me in my next interview.”

The doctor rose also.

“I can’t see how, but I’ll take your word for it,” he said.

They shook hands.

Poirot went down the steps of the doctor’s house, and hailed a passing taxi.

“111 Cheyne Lane, Chelsea,” he told the driver.

Eleven

MRS. LORRIMER

111 Cheyne Lane was a small house of very neat and trim appearance standing in a quiet street. The door was painted black and the steps were particularly well whitened, the brass of the knocker and handle gleamed in the afternoon sun.

The door was opened by an elderly parlourmaid with an immaculate white cap and apron.

In answer to Poirot’s inquiry she said that her mistress was at home.

She preceded him up the narrow staircase.

“What name, sir?”

“M. Hercule Poirot.”

He was ushered into a drawing room of the usual L shape. Poirot looked about him, noting details. Good furniture, well polished, of the old family type. Shiny chintz on the chairs and settees. A few silver photograph frames about in the old-fashioned manner. Otherwise an agreeable amount of space and light, and some really beautiful chrysanthemums arranged in a tall jar.

Mrs. Lorrimer came forward to meet him.

She shook hands without showing any particular surprise at seeing him, indicated a chair, took one herself and remarked favourably on the weather.

There was a pause.

“I hope, madame,” said Hercule Poirot, “that you will forgive this visit.”

Looking directly at him, Mrs. Lorrimer asked:

“Is this a professional visit?”

“I confess it.”

“You realize, I suppose, M. Poirot, that though I shall naturally give Superintendent Battle and the official police any information and help they may require, I am by no means bound to do the same for any unofficial investigator?”

“I am quite aware of that fact, madame. If you show me the door, me, I march to that door with complete submission.”

Mrs. Lorrimer smiled very slightly.

“I am not yet prepared to go to those extremes, M. Poirot. I can give you ten minutes. At the end of that time I have to go out to a bridge party.”


Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery