With a gesture he summoned the waiter and asked for the bill.

"And where next, friend?" he inquired.

"To the Sыreté. They may have some news for me."

"Good. I will accompany you. Afterwards, I have a little investigation of my own to make in which, perhaps, you will assist me."

At the Sыreté, Poirot renewed acquaintance with the chief of the detective force, whom he had met some years previously in the course of one of his cases. M. Gilles was very affable and polite.

"Enchanted to learn that you are interesting yourself in this case, M. Poirot."

"My faith, my dear M. Gilles, it happened under my nose. It is an insult, that, you agree? Hercule Poirot, to sleep while murder is committed!"

M. Gilles shook his head tactfully.

"These machines! On a day of bad weather, they are far from steady - far from steady. I myself have felt seriously incommoded once or twice."

"They say that an army marches on its stomach," said Poirot. "But how much are the delicate convolutions of the brain influenced by the digestive apparatus? When the mal de mer seizes me, I, Hercule Poirot, am a creature with no gray cells, no order, no method - a mere member of the human race somewhat below average intelligence! It is deplorable, but there it is! And talking of these matters, how is my excellent friend Giraud?"

Prudently ignoring the significance of the words "these matters," M. Gilles replied that Giraud continued to advance in his career.

"He is most zealous. His energy is untiring."

"It always was," said Poirot. "He ran to and fro. He crawled on all fours. He was here, there and everywhere. Not for one moment did he ever pause and reflect."

"Ah, M. Poirot, that is your little foible. A man like Fournier will be more to your mind. He is of the newest school - all for the psychology. That should please you."

"It does. It does."

"He has a very good knowledge of English. That is why we sent him to Croydon to assist in this case. A very interesting case, M. Poirot. Madame Giselle was one of the best-known characters in Paris. And the manner of her death, extraordinary! A poisoned dart from a blowpipe in an aeroplane. I ask you! Is it possible that such a thing could happen?"

"Exactly!" cried Poirot. "Exactly! You hit the nail upon the head. You place a finger unerringly - Ah, here is our good Fournier. You have news, I see."

The melancholy-faced Fournier was looking quite eager and excited.

"Yes, indeed. A Greek antique dealer, Zeropoulos, has reported the sale of a blowpipe and darts three days before the murder. I propose now, monsieur -" he bowed respectfully to his chief - "to interview this man."

"By all means," said Gilles. "Does M. Poirot accompany you?"

"If you please," said Poirot. "This is interesting. Very interesting."

The shop of M. Zeropoulos was in the Rue St. Honoré. It was by way of being a high-class antique dealer's shop. There was a good deal of Rhages ware and other Persian pottery. There were one or two bronzes from Luristan, a good deal of inferior Indian jewelry, shelves of silks and embroideries from many countries, and a large proportion of perfectly worthless beads and cheap Egyptian goods. It was the kind of establishment in which you could spend a million francs on an object worth half a million, or ten francs on an object worth fifty centimes. It was patronized chiefly by tourists and knowledgeable connoisseurs.