You don’t know what a dull old fogey’s life I lead. Never anything out of the

ordinary.”

 

“Good, we will be colleagues then. In a minute or two I fancy Major Blunt will

join us. He is not happy with the good mamma. Now there are some things I want

to know—but I do not wish to seem to want to know them. You comprehend? So it

will be your part to ask the questions.”

 

“What questions do you want me to ask?” I asked apprehensively.

 

“I want you to introduce the name of Mrs. Ferrars.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Speak of her in a natural fashion. Ask him if he was down here when her husband

died. You understand the kind of thing I mean. And while he replies, watch his

face without seeming to watch it. _C’est compris?_”

 

There was no time for more, for at that minute, as Poirot had prophesied, Blunt

left the others in his abrupt fashion and came over to us.

 

I suggested strolling on the terrace, and he acquiesced. Poirot stayed behind.

 

I stopped to examine a late rose.