POIROT PAYS A CALL
stretched out my feet to the inviting blaze in the fireplace.
"Have you?" I asked. "Miss Ganett drop in to tea?"
Miss Ganett is one of the chief of our newsmongers.
"Guess again," said Caroline with intense complacency.
I guessed several times, working slowly through all the members of Caroline's Intelligence Corps. My sister received each guess with a triumphant shake of the head. In the end she volunteered the information herself.
"M. Poirot!" she said. "Now what do you think of that?"
I thought a good many things of it, but I was careful not to say them to Caroline.
"Why did he come?" I asked.
"To see me, of course. He said that knowing my brother so well, he hoped he might be permitted to make the acquaintance of his charming sister—your charming sister, I've got mixed up, but you know what I mean."
"What did he talk about?" I asked.
"He told me a lot about himself and his cases. You know that Prince Paul of Mauretania—the one who's just married a dancer?"
"Yes?"
"I saw a most intriguing paragraph about her in Society Snippets the other day, hinting that she was really a Russian Grand Duchess—one of the Czar's daughters who managed to escape from the Bolsheviks. Well, it seems that M. Poirot solved a baffling murder mystery that threatened to involve them both. Prince Paul was beside himself with gratitude."
[139]
