‘Bexhill much the same. Stayed at the Globe under his own name. Offered stockings to about a dozen addresses, including Mrs Barnard and including the Ginger Cat. Left hotel early in the evening. Arrived back in London about 11.30 the following morning. As to Andover, same procedure. Stayed at the Feathers. Offered stockings to Mrs Fowler, next door to Mrs Ascher, and to half a dozen other people in the street. The pair Mrs Ascher had I got from the niece (name of Drower)—they’re identical with Cust’s supply.’

‘So far, good,’ said the AC.

‘Acting on information received,’ said the inspector, ‘I went to the address given me by Hartigan, but found that Cust had left the house about half an hour previously. He received a telephone message, I’m told. First time such a thing had happened to him, so his landlady told me.’

‘An accomplice?’ suggested the Assistant Commissioner.

‘Hardly,’ said Poirot. ‘It is odd that—unless—’

We all looked at him inquiringly as he paused.

He shook his head, however, and the inspector proceeded.

‘I made a thorough search of the room he had occupied. That search puts the matter beyond doubt. I found a block of notepaper similar to that on which the letters were written, a large quantity of hosiery and—at the back of the cupboard where the hosiery was stored—a parcel much the same shape and size but which turned out to contain—not hosiery—but eight new A B C railway guides!’

‘Proof positive,’ said the Assistant Commissioner.

‘I’ve found something else, too,’ said the inspector—his voice becoming suddenly almost human with triumph. ‘Only found it this morning, sir. Not had time to report yet. There was no sign of the knife in his room—’

‘It would be the act of an imbecile to bring that back with him,’ remarked Poirot.

‘After all, he’s not a reasonable human being,’ remarked the inspector. ‘Anway, it occurred to me that he might just possibly have brought it back to the house and then realized the danger of hiding it (as M. Poirot points out) in his room, and have looked about elsewhere. What place in the house would he be likely to select? I got it straight away. The hall stand—no one ever moves a hall stand. With a lot of trouble I got it moved out from the wall—and there it was!’

‘The knife?’

‘The knife. Not a doubt of it. The dried blood’s still on it.’

‘Good work, Crome,’ said the AC approvingly. ‘We only need one thing more now.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The man himself.’

‘We’ll get him, sir. Never fear.’

The inspector’s tone was confident.

‘What do you say, M. Poirot?’

Poirot started out of a reverie.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘We were saying that it was only a matter of time before we got our man. Do you agree?’

‘Oh, that—yes. Without a doubt.’

His tone was so abstracted that the others looked at him curiously.

‘Is there anything worrying you, M. Poirot?’

‘There is something that worries me very much. It is the why? The motive.’