Poirot eyed him keenly. “You have, then, another string to your bow? Permit that

I make a guess? It is to sell the Star of the East?”

 

Lord Yardly nodded. “That’s it. It’s been in the family for some generations,

but it’s not entailed. Still, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to find a

purchaser. Hoffberg, the Hatton Garden man, is on the look-out for a likely

customer, but he’ll have to find one soon, or it’s a washout.”

 

“One more question, _permettez_—Lady Yardly, which plan does she approve?”

 

“Oh, she’s bitterly opposed to my selling the jewel. You know what women are.

She’s all for this film stunt.”

 

“I comprehend,” said Poirot. He remained a moment or so in thought, then rose

briskly to his feet. “You return to Yardly Chase at once? _Bien!_ Say no word to

anyone—to _anyone_ mind—but expect us there this evening. We will arrive shortly

after five.”

 

“All right, but I don’t see——”

 

“_Ça n’a pas d’importance_,” said Poirot kindly. “You will that I preserve for

you your diamond, _n’est-ce pas_?”

 

“Yes, but——”