Next he went to the beach—to the place where Betty Barnard’s body had been discovered. Here he walked round in circles for some minutes studying the shingle attentively. I could see little point in this, since the tide covered the spot twice a day.

However I have learnt by this time that Poirot’s actions are usually dictated by an idea—however meaningless they may seem.

He then walked from the beach to the nearest point at which a car could have been parked. From there again he went to the place where the Eastbourne buses waited before leaving Bexhill.

Finally he took us all to the Ginger Cat café, where we had a somewhat stale tea served by the plump waitress, Milly Higley.

Her he complimented in a flowing Gallic style on the shape of her ankles.

‘The legs of the English—always they are too thin! But you, mademoiselle, have the perfect leg. It has shape—it has an ankle!’

Milly Higley giggled a good deal and told him not to go on so. She knew what French gentlemen were like.

Poirot did not trouble to contradict her mistake as to his nationality. He merely ogled her in such a way that I was startled and almost shocked.

‘Voilà,’ said Poirot, ‘I have finished in Bexhill. Presently I go to Eastbourne. One little inquiry there—that is all. Unnecessary for you all to accompany me. In the meantime come back to the hotel and let us have a cocktail. That Carlton tea, it was abominable!’

As we were sipping our cocktails Franklin Clarke said curiously:

‘I suppose we can guess what you are after? You’re out to break that alibi. But I can’t see what you’re so pleased about. You haven’t got a new fact of any kind.’

‘No—that is true.’

‘Well, then?’

‘Patience. Everything arranges itself, given time.’

‘You seem quite pleased with yourself anyway.’

‘Nothing so far has contradicted my little idea—that is why.’

His face grew serious.

‘My friend Hastings told me once that he had, as a young man, played a game called The Truth. It was a game where everyone in turn was asked three questions—two of which must be answered truthfully. The third one could be barred. The questions, naturally, were of the most indiscreet kind. But to begin with everyone had to swear that they would indeed speak the truth, and nothing but the truth.’

He paused.

‘Well?’ said Megan.

‘Eh bien—me, I want to play that game. Only it is not necessary to have three questions. One will be enough. One question to each of you.’

‘Of course,’ said Clarke impatiently. ‘We’ll answer anything.’

‘Ah, but I want it to be more serious than that. Do you all swear to speak the truth?’

He was so solemn about it that the others, puzzled, became solemn themselves. They all swore as he demanded.

‘Bon,’ said Poirot briskly. ‘Let us begin—’

‘I’m ready,’ said Thora Grey.

‘Ah, but ladies first—this time it would not be the politeness. We will start elsewhere.’