glittering object. It was a great diamond.

 

“The Star of the East,” gasped Lord Yardly. “But I don’t understand——”

 

“No?” said Poirot. “It makes no matter. Believe me, it was necessary for the

diamond to be stolen. I promised you that it should be preserved to you, and I

have kept my word. You must permit me to keep my little secret. Convey, I beg of

you, the assurances of my deepest respect to Lady Yardly, and tell her how

pleased I am to be able to restore her jewel to her. What _beau temps_, is it

not?

 

Good day, _milord_.”

 

And smiling and talking, the amazing little man conducted the bewildered

nobleman to the door. He returned gently rubbing his hands.

 

“Poirot,” I said. “Am I quite demented?”

 

“No, _mon ami_, but you are, as always, in a mental fog.”

 

“How did you get the diamond.”

 

“From Mr. Rolf.”

 

“Rolf?”