Fernly. It looks to me as though we’d got our blackmailer all right. On the

other hand, granted his story’s correct, he couldn’t have had anything to do

with the actual murder. He’d got ten pounds on him when he was arrested—rather a

large sum. I fancy that forty pounds went to him—the numbers of the notes didn’t

correspond, but of course he’d have changed them first thing. Mr. Ackroyd must

have given him the money, and he made off with it as fast as possible.

 

What was that about Kent being his birthplace? What’s that got to do with it?”

 

“Nothing whatever,” said Poirot mildly. “A little idea of mine, that was all.

Me, I am famous for my little ideas.”

 

“Are you really?” said Raglan, studying him with a puzzled expression.

 

The superintendent went into a roar of laughter.

 

“Many’s the time I’ve heard Inspector Japp say that. M. Poirot and his little

ideas! Too fanciful for me, he’d say, but always something in them.”

 

“You mock yourself at me,” said Poirot, smiling; “but never mind. The old ones

they laugh last sometimes, when the young, clever ones do not laugh at all.”

 

And nodding his head at them in a sage manner, he walked out into the street.

 

He and I lunched together at an hotel. I know now that the whole thing lay