mon ami. I have need of reflection. My mind is in some disorder—which is not well.”
For about ten minutes he sat in dead silence, perfectly still, except for several expressive motions of his eyebrows, and all the time his eyes grew steadily greener. At last he heaved a deep sigh.
“It is well. The bad moment has passed. Now all is arranged and classified. One must never permit confusion. The case is not clear yet—no. For it is of the most complicated! It puzzles me. Me, Hercule Poirot! There are two facts of significance.”
Ross’s, the caterers in Tadminster. The other one, I don’t remember.”
“Think,” urged Poirot.
Annie racked her brains in vain.
“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s clean gone. I don’t think I can have noticed it.”
“It does not matter,” said Poirot, not betraying any sign of disappointment. “Now I want to ask