As a matter of fact, I believe I fell asleep.

I woke to find Poirot’s hand on my shoulder.

‘Mon cher Hastings,’ he said affectionately. ‘My good genius.’

I was quite confused by this sudden mark of esteem.

‘It is true,’ Poirot insisted. ‘Always—always—you help me—you bring me luck. You inspire me.’

‘How have I inspired you this time?’ I asked.

‘While I was asking myself certain questions I remembered a remark of yours—a remark absolutely shimmering in its clear vision. Did I not say to you once that you had a genius for stating the obvious. It is the obvious that I have neglected.’

‘What is this brilliant remark of mine?’ I asked.

‘It makes everything as clear as crystal. I see the answers to all my questions. The reason for Mrs Ascher (that, it is true, I glimpsed long ago), the reason for Sir Carmichael Clarke, the reason for the Doncaster murder, and finally and supremely important, the reason for Hercule Poirot.’

‘Could you kindly explain?’ I asked.

‘Not at the moment. I require first a little more information. That I can get from our Special Legion. And then—then, when I have got the answer to a certain question, I will go and see ABC. We will be face to face at last—A B C and Hercule Poirot—the adversaries.’

‘And then?’ I asked.

‘And then,’ said Poirot. ‘We will talk! Je vous assure, Hastings—there is nothing so dangerous for anyone who has something to hide as conversation! Speech, so a wise old Frenchman said to me once, is an invention of man’s to prevent him from thinking. It is also an infallible means of discovering that which he wishes to hide. A human being, Hastings, cannot resist the opportunity to reveal himself and express his personality which conversation gives him. Every time he will give himself away.’

‘What do you expect Cust to tell you?’

Hercule Poirot smiled.

‘A lie,’ he said. ‘And by it, I shall know the truth!’

Chapter 32

And Catch a Fox

During the next few days Poirot was very busy. He made mysterious absences, talked very little, frowned to himself, and consistently refused to satisfy my natural curiosity as to the brilliance I had, according to him, displayed in the past.

I was not invited to accompany him on his mysterious comings and goings—a fact which I somewhat resented.

Towards the end of the week, however, he announced his intention of paying a visit to Bexhill and neighbourhood and suggested that I should come with him. Needless to say, I accepted with alacrity.

The invitation, I discovered, was not extended to me alone. The members of our Special Legion were also invited.

They were as intrigued by Poirot as I was. Nevertheless, by the end of the day, I had at any rate an idea as to the direction in which Poirot’s thoughts were tending.

He first visited Mr and Mrs Barnard and got an exact account from her as to the hour at which Mr Cust had called on her and exactly what he had said. He then went to the hotel at which Cust had put up and extracted a minute description of that gentleman’s departure. As far as I could judge, no new facts were elicited by his questions but he himself seemed quite satisfied.