them both back to China?”

 

His tone was mocking, but I fancied that an undercurrent of seriousness lay

beneath it.

 

“I don’t believe that Lady Yardly’s diamond is anything like as good a stone as

mine,” said Miss Marvell. “Anyway, I’m going to see.”

 

What more Poirot would have said I do not know, for at that moment the door flew

open, and a splendid-looking man strode into the room. From his crisply curling

black head, to the tips of his patent-leather boots, he was a hero fit for

romance.

 

“I said I’d call round for you, Mary,” said Gregory Rolf, “and here I am. Well,

what does Monsieur Poirot say to our little problem?

 

Just one big hoax, same as I do?”

 

Poirot smiled up at the big actor. They made a ridiculous contrast.

 

“Hoax or no hoax, Mr. Rolf,” he said dryly, “I have advised Madame your wife not

to take the jewel with her to Yardly Chase on Friday.”

 

“I’m with you there, sir. I’ve already said so to Mary. But there!