on false pretences. Can’t prove a ruddy thing.”

 

The inspector tossed a match into the grate in a disgruntled fashion.

 

Poirot retrieved it and put it neatly in a little receptacle designed for the

purpose. His action was purely mechanical. I could see that his thoughts were on

something very different.

 

“If I were you,” he said at last, “I should not release the man Charles Kent

yet.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Raglan stared at him.

 

“What I say. I should not release him yet.”

 

“You don’t think he can have had anything to do with the murder, do you?”

 

“I think probably not—but one cannot be certain yet.”

 

“But haven’t I just told you——”

 

Poirot raised a hand protestingly.