“Damn my liver,” I said irritably. “Did you talk about the murder at all?”

 

“Well, naturally, James. What else is there to talk about locally?

 

I was able to set M. Poirot right upon several points. He was very grateful to

me. He said I had the makings of a born detective in me—and a wonderful

psychological insight into human nature.”

 

Caroline was exactly like a cat that is full to overflowing with rich cream. She

was positively purring.

 

“He talked a lot about the little gray cells of the brain, and of their

functions. His own, he says, are of the first quality.”

 

“He would say so,” I remarked bitterly. “Modesty is certainly not his middle

name.”

 

“I wish you would not be so horribly American, James. He thought it very

important that Ralph should be found as soon as possible, and induced to come

forward and give an account of himself. He says that his disappearance will

produce a very unfortunate impression at the inquest.”

 

“And what did you say to that?”

 

“I agreed with him,” said Caroline importantly. “And I was able to tell him the