‘Well, of course I remember it. It’s practically what we’ve just been talking about, isn’t it?’

‘I made one grave mistake,’ said Poirot. ‘I never read your synopsis for competitors. In the gravity of discovering a murder it did not seem to matter. I was wrong. It did matter. You are a sensitive person, Madame. You are affected by your atmosphere, by the personalities of the people you meet. And these are translated into your work. Not recognizably so, but they are the inspiration from which your fertile brain draws its creations.’

‘That’s very nice flowery language,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘But what exactly do you mean?’

‘That you have always known more about this crime than you have realized yourself. Now for the question I want to ask you – two questions actually; but the first is very important. Did you, when you first began to plan your Murder Hunt, mean the body to be discovered in the boathouse?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Where did you intend it to be?’

‘In that funny little summer-house tucked away in the rhododendrons near the house. I thought it was just the place. But then someone, I can’t remember who exactly, began insisting that it should be found in the Folly. Well, that, of course, was an absurd idea! I mean, anyone could have strolled in there quite casually and come across it without having followed a single clue. People are so stupid. Of course I couldn’t agree to that.’

‘So, instead, you accepted the boathouse?’

‘Yes, that’s just how it happened. There was really nothing against the boathouse though I still thought the little summer-house would have been better.’

‘Yes, that is the technique you outlined to me that first day. There is one thing more. Do you remember telling me that there was a final clue written on one of the “comics” that Marlene was given to amuse her?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Tell me, was it something like’ (he forced his memory back to a moment when he had stood reading various scrawled phrases): ‘Albert goes with Doreen; Georgie Porgie kisses hikers in the wood; Peter pinches girls in the Cinema?’

‘Good gracious me, no,’ said Mrs Oliver in a slightly shocked voice. ‘It wasn’t anything silly like that. No, mine was a perfectly straightforward clue.’ She lowered her voice and spoke in mysterious tones. ‘Look in the hiker’s rucksack.’

‘Epatant!’ cried Poirot. ‘Epatant! Of course, the “comic” with that on it would have to be taken away. It might have given someone ideas!’

‘The rucksack, of course, was on the floor by the body and –’

‘Ah, but it is another rucksack of which I am thinking.’

‘You’re confusing me with all these rucksacks,’ Mrs Oliver complained. ‘There was only one in my murder story. Don’t you want to know what was in it?’