brief nod of dismissal, and she went out. Poirot scribbled something on a scrap of paper and handed it across to M. Carrège. The latter read it and his brow cleared.
"Well, gentlemen," demanded the Count haughtily, "am I to be detained further.?"
"Assuredly not, assuredly not," M. Carrège hastened to say, with a great deal of amiability. "Everything is now cleared up as regards your own position in this affair. Naturally, in view of Madame's letter, we were bound to question you."
The Count rose, picked up his handsome stick from the corner, and, with rather a curt bow, left the room.
"And that is that," said M. Carrège. "You were quite right, M. Poirot—much better to let him feel he is not suspected. Two of my men will shadow him night and day, and at the same time we will go into the question of the alibi. It seems to me rather—er—a fluid one."
"Possibly," agreed Poirot thoughtfully.
"I asked M. Kettering to come here this morning." continued the Magistrate, "though really I doubt if we have much to ask him, but there are one or two suspicious circumstances" He paused, rubbing his nose.
"Such as?" asked Poirot.
"Well"—the Magistrate coughed—"this lady with whom he is said to be travelling—Mademoiselle Mirelle. She is staying at one hotel and he at another. That strikes me—er—as rather odd."
"It looks," said M. Caux, "as though they were being careful."
