“Allons!” he said. “We must act at once. Where is Mr. Cavendish?”
John was in the smoking-room. Poirot went straight to him.
“Mr. Cavendish, I have some important business in Tadminster. A new clue. May I take your motor?”
“Why, of course. Do you mean at once?”
“If you please.”
John rang the bell, and ordered round the car. In another ten minutes, we were racing down the park and along the high road to Tadminster.
“Now, Poirot,” I remarked resignedly, “perhaps you will tell me what all this is about?”
do something. Find out how he did it. He’s a crafty beggar. Dare say he soaked fly papers. Ask Cook if she’s missed any.”
It occurred to me very forcibly at that moment that to harbour Miss Howard and Alfred Inglethorp under the same roof, and keep the peace between them, was likely to prove a Herculean