"Oh, really?" Miss Pierce looked as flushed and pleased as a child.

Poirot escorted her to the hotel.

Back in his own room he added one line to his memorandum:

"Point No. 10. I never forget. Remember that I've never forgotten anything. . . ."

He nodded his head. "Mais oui," he said. "It is all clear now!"

15

"My preparations are complete," said Hercule Poirot. With a little sigh, he stepped back a pace or two and contemplated his arrangement of one of the unoccupied hotel bedrooms.

Colonel Carbury, leaning inelegantly against the bed which had been pushed against the wall, smiled as he puffed at his pipe.

"Funny feller, aren't you, Poirot?" he said. "Like to dramatize things."

"Perhaps that is true," admitted the little detective. "But, indeed, it is not all self-indulgence. If one plays a comedy, one must first set the scene."

"Is this a comedy?"

"Even if it is a tragedy—there, too, the decor must be correct."

Colonel Carbury looked at him curiously. "Well," he said. "It's up to you! I don't know what you're driving at. I gather, though, that you've got something."

"I shall have the honor to present to you what you asked me for—the truth!"

"Do you think we can get a conviction?"

"That, my friend, I did not promise you."

"True enough. Maybe I'm glad you haven't. It depends."

"My arguments are mainly psychological," said Poirot.

Colonel Carburv sighed. "I was afraid they might be."

"But they will convince you," Poirot reassured him. "Oh, yes, they will convince you. The truth, I have always thought, is curious and beautiful."

"Sometimes," said Colonel Carbury, "it's damned unpleasant."

"No, no." Poirot was earnest. "You take there the personal view. Take instead, the abstract, the detached point of vision. Then the absolute logic of events is fascinating and orderly."

"I'll try and look on it that way," said the Colonel.

Poirot glanced at his watch, a large grotesque turnip of a watch.

"Family heirloom?" inquired Carbury interestedly.

"But, yes, indeed, it belonged to my grandfather."

"Thought it might have done."

"It is time to commence our proceedings," said Poirot. "You, mon Colonel, will sit here behind this table in an official position."

"Oh, all right," Carbury grunted. "You don't want me to put my uniform on, do you?"

"No, no. If you would permit that I straightened your tie."

He suited the action to the word. Colonel Carbury grinned again, sat down in the chair indicated and a moment later, unconsciously, tweaked his tie around under his left ear again.

"Here," continued Poirot, slightly altering the position of the chairs, "we place la famille Boynton. And over here," he went on, "we will place the three outsiders who have a definite stake in the case. Dr. Gerard, on whose evidence the case for the prosecution depends. Miss Sarah King, who has two separate interests in the case, a personal one and that of medical examiner. Also M. Jefferson Cope, who was on intimate terms with the Boyntons and so may be definitely described as an interested party."