"Chic?" said Georges, rather taken aback.

"I am answered," said Poirot. "She was chic. And I have a little idea, my friend, that she would look well in a bathing dress."

George stared at him.

"A bathing dress? What is this about a bathing dress?"

"A little idea of mine. A charming woman looks still more charming in a bathing dress. Do you not agree? See here?"

He passed to the old man a page torn from the Sketch.

There was a moment's pause. The old man gave a very slight start.

"You agree, do you not?" asked Poirot.

"They look well enough, those two," said the old man, handing the sheet back. "To wear nothing at all would be very nearly the same thing."

"Ah," said Poirot. That is because nowadays we have discovered the beneficial action of sun on the skin. It is very convenient, that."

Georges condescended to give a hoarse chuckle and moved away as Poirot and Fournier stepped out into the sunlit street.

Over the meal as outlined by Poirot, the little Belgian produced the little black memorandum book.

Fournier was much excited, though distinctly irate with Élise. Poirot argued the point:

"It is natural - very natural. The police - it is always a word frightening to that class. It embroils them in they know not what. It is the same everywhere, in every country."

"That is where you score," said Fournier. "The private investigator gets more out of witnesses than you ever get through official channels. However, there is the other side of the picture. We have official records, the whole system of a big organization at our command."

"So let us work together amicably," said Poirot, smiling... "This omelet is delicious."

In the interval between the omelet and the sole, Fournier turned the pages of the black book. Then he made a penciled entry in his notebook.

He looked across at Poirot.

"You have read through this? Yes?"

"No, I have only glanced at it. You permit?"

He took the book from Fournier.

When the cheese was placed before them, Poirot laid down the book on the table and the eyes of the two men met.

"There are certain entries," began Fournier.

"Five," said Poirot.

"I agree. Five."

He read out from the notebook:

"CL 52. English Peeress. Husband.

"RT 362. Doctor. Harley Street.

"MR 24. Forged Antiquities.

"XVB 724. English. Embezzlement.

"GF 45. Attempted Murder. English."

"Excellent, my friend," said Poirot. "Our minds march together to a marvel. Of all the entries in that little book, those five seem to me to be the only ones that can in any way bear a relation to the persons traveling in the aeroplane. Let us take them one by one."

"'English Peeress. Husband,'" said Fournier. "That may conceivably apply to Lady Horbury. She is, I understand, a confirmed gambler. Nothing could be more likely than that she should borrow money from Giselle. Giselle's clients are usually of that type. The word 'husband'

may have one of two meanings. Either Giselle expected the husband to pay up his wife's debts or she had some hold over Lady Horbury, a secret which she threatened to reveal to the lady's husband."