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“I’ll come down with you.”
Under his moustaches, Hercule Poirot smiled to himself.
On the ground floor, Jane paused abruptly. She said:
“Come in here.”
They went into a small room off the hall.
She turned to face him.
“What did you mean on the telephone when you said that you had been expecting me to call you?”
Poirot smiled. He spread out his hands.
“Just that, Mademoiselle. I was expecting a call from you—and the call came.”
“You mean that you knew I’d ring up about this Sainsbury Seale woman.”
Poirot shook his head.
“That was only the pretext. You could have found something else if necessary.”
Jane said:
“Why the hell should I call you up?”
“Why should you deliver this titbit of information about Miss Sainsbury Seale to me instead of giving it to Scotland Yard? That would have been the natural thing to do.”
“All right, Mr. Know All, how much exactly do you know?”
“I know that you are interested in me since you heard that I paid a visit to the Holborn Palace Hotel the other day.”
She went so white that it startled him. He had not believed that that deep tan could change to such a greenish hue.
He went on, quietly and steadily:
“You got me to come here today because you wanted to pump me—that is the expression, is it not?—yes, to pump me on the subject of Mr. Howard Raikes.”
Jane Olivera said:
“Who’s he, anyway?”
It was not a very successful parry.
Poirot said:
“You do not need to pump me, Mademoiselle. I will tell you what I know—or rather what I guessed. That first day that we came here, Inspector Japp and I, you were startled to see us—alarmed. You thought something had happened to your uncle. Why?”
“Well, he’s the kind of man things might happen to. He had a bomb by post one day—after the Herjoslovakian Loan. And he gets lots of threatening letters.”
Poirot went on:
“Chief Inspector Japp told you that a certain dentist, Mr. Morley, had been shot. You may recollect your answer. You said: ‘But that’s absurd.’”
Jane bit her lip. She said:
“Did I? That was rather absurd of me, wasn’t it?”
