"Well, his niece, I suppose. He's recently come into an immense fortune. Left him by Madame Gospoja

whose husband was a sugar profiteer under the old regime. They had an affair together once, I believe, and

she refused steadfastly to credit the reports of his

death."

"Where did the match take place?"

"In Savaronoff's own flat. He's an invalid, as I told you."

"Many people there to watch it?"

"At least a dozen--probably more."

Poirot made an expressive grimace.

"My poor Japp, your task is not an easy one."

"Once I know definitely that Wilson was poisoned, I can get on."

"Has it occurred to you that, in the meantime, supposing your assumption that Savaronoff was the intended

victim to be correct, the murderer may try

again?"

"Of course it has. Two men are watching Savaronoff's flat."

"That will be very useful if any one should call with a bomb under his arm," said Poirot dryly.

"You're getting interested, Moosier Poirot," said Japp, with a twinkle. "Care to come round to the mortuary and see Wilson's body before the doctors start on

it? Who knows, his tie-pin may be askew, and that may

give you a valuable clue that will solve the mystery."

"My dear Japp, all through dinner my fingers have

been itching to rearrange your own tie-pin. You permit,

yes? Ah! that is much more pleasing to the eye. Yes, by

all means, let us go to the mortuary."

I could see that Poirot's attention was completely

captivated by this new problem. It was so long since he

had shown any interest over any outside case that I was

quite rejoiced to see him back in his old form.

For my own part, I felt a deep pity as I looked down

upon the motionless form and convulsed face of the

hapless young American who had come by his death in

such a strange way. Poirot examined the body attentively. There was no mark on it anywhere, except a

small scar on the left hand.

"And the doctor says that's a burn, not a cut," explained Japp.

Poirot's attention shifted to the contents of the dead

man's pockets which a constable spread out for our

inspection. There was nothing much--a handkerchief,

keys, note-case filled with notes, and some unimportant

letters. But one object standing by itself filled Poirot with interest.

"A chessman!" he exclaimed. "A white bishop. Was that in his pocket?"

"No, clasped in his hand. We had quite a difficulty to get it out of his fingers. It must be returned to Dr. Savaronoff sometime. It's part of a very beautiful set of carved ivory chessmen."

"Permit me to return it to him. It will make an excuse for my going there."

"Aha!" cried Japp. "So you want to come in on this case?"

"I admit it. So skilfully have you aroused my interest."

"That's fine. Got you away from your brooding.

Captain Hastings is pleased, too, I can see."

"Quite right," I said, laughing.

Poirot turned back towards the body.