"I'm afraid I can't say that, M. Poirot. Mrs Abernethie went to London to fetch some extra clothes and belongings as she had agreed with Mr Entwhistle to stay on and see to things."

"Il ne manquait que ça!" said Poirot with strong feeling.

Chapter 13

When the card of Inspector Morton of the Berkshire County Police was brought to Hercule Poirot, his eyebrows went up.

"Show him in, Georges, show him in. And bring - what is it that the police prefer?"

"I would suggest beer, sir."

"How horrible! But how British. Bring beer, then."

Inspector Morton came straight to the point.

"I had to come to London," he said. "And I got hold of your address, M. Poirot. I was interested to see you at the inquest on Thursday."

"So you saw me there?"

"Yes. I was surprised - and, as I say, interested. You won't remember me but I remember you very well. In that Pangbourne Case."

"Ah, you were connected with that?"

"Only in a very junior, capacity. It's a long time ago but I've never forgotten you."

"And you recognised me at once the other day?"

"That wasn't difficult, sir." Inspector Morton repressed a slight smile.

"Your appearance is - rather unusual."

His gaze took in Poirot's sartorial perfection and rested finally on the curving moustaches.

"You stick out in a country place," he said.

"It is possible, it is possible," said Poirot with complacency.

"It interested me why you should be there. That sort of crime - robbery

-assault - doesn't usually interest you."

"Was it the usual ordinary brutal type of crime?"

"That's what I've been wondering."

"You have wondered from the beginning, have you not?"

"Yes, M. Poirot. There were some unusual features. Since then we've worked along the routine lines. Pulled in one or two people for questioning, but everyone has been able to account quite satisfactorily for his time that afternoon. It wasn't what you'd call an ordinary crime, M. Poirot - we're quite sure of that. The Chief Constable agrees. It was done by someone who wished to make it appear that way. It could have been the Gilchrist woman, but there doesn't seem to be any motive - and there wasn't any emotional background. Mrs Lansquenet was perhaps a bit mental - or 'simple,' if yon like to put it that way, but it was a household of mistress and dogsbody with no feverish feminine friendship about it. There are dozens of Miss Gilchrists about, and the're not usually the murdering type."

He paused.

"So it looks as though we'd have to look farther afield. I came to ask if you could help us at all. Something must have brought you down there, M. Poirot."

"Yes, yes, something did. An excellent Daimler car. But not only that."

"You had - information?"

"Hardly in your sense of the word. Nothing that could be used as evidence."

"But something that could be a pointer?"

"Yes."

"You see, M. Poirot, there have been developments."