“Isn’t he detained at Liverpool?” asked Raymond. “It said so in the paper.”

 

“He is not at Liverpool,” said Poirot shortly.

 

“In fact,” I remarked, “no one knows where he is.”

 

“Excepting Hercule Poirot, eh?” said Raymond.

 

Poirot replied seriously to the other’s banter.

 

“Me, I know everything. Remember that.”

 

Geoffrey Raymond lifted his eyebrows.

 

“Everything?” He whistled. “Whew! that’s a tall order.”

 

“Do you mean to say you can really guess where Ralph Paton is hiding?” I asked

incredulously.

 

“You call it guessing. I call it knowing, my friend.”

 

“In Cranchester?” I hazarded.

 

“No,” replied Poirot gravely, “not in Cranchester.”