deal simpler. The stuff was cached-and the only man who knew where it was is dead."

"You mean Casey ?"

"Yes. He may have cached it somewhere

in Italy, or he may have succeeded

in smuggling it out of the country. But he hid it and wherever he hid it, there it still is."

Hercule Poirot sighed.

"It is a romantic theory. Pearls stuffed

into plaster casts--what is the story-the Bust of Napoleon, is it not ? But in this case it is not jewels --it is a large, solid

gold cup. Not so easy to hide that, one

would think."

Wagstaffe said vaguely:

"Oh, I don't know. It could be done, I

suppose. Under the floor-boards --something

of that kind."

"Had Casey a house of his own ?"

"Yes --in Liverpool." He grinned. "It

wasn't under the floor-boards there. We

made sure of that."

"What about his family ?"

"Wife was a decent sort of woman - 400

tubercular. Worried to death by her husband's

way of life. She was religious --a

devout Catholic --but couldn't make up

her mind to leave him. She died a couple

of years ago. Daughter took after her - she became a nun. The son was different

--a chip off the old block. Last I heard of

him he was doing time in America."

Hercule Poirot wrote, in his little notebook.

America. He said: "It is possible

that Casey's son may have known the

hiding-place ?"

"Don't believe he did. It would have

come into the fences' hands by now."

"The cup might have been melted

down."

"It might. Quite possible, I should say.

But I don't know--its supreme value

is to collectors --and there's a lot of

funny business goes on with collectors - you'd be surprised! Sometimes," said Wagstaffe virtuously, "I think collectors

haven't any morals at all."

"Ah! Would you be surprised if Sir

Reuben Rosenthal, for instance, were engaged

in what you describe as Tunny

business' ?"

Wagstaffe grinned.

401

"I wouldn't put it past him. He's not

supposed to be very scrupulous where

works of art are concerned."

"What about the other members of the

gang ?"

"Ricovetti and Dublay both got stiff

sentences. I should imagine they'll be

coming out about now."

"Dublay is a Frenchman, is he not ?"

"Yes, he was the brains of the gang."

"Were there other members of it ?"

"There was a girl — Red Kate she used

to be called. Took a job as lady's-maid and

found out all about a crib — where stuff

was kept and so on. She went to Australia,

I believe, after the gang broke up."

"Anyone else ?"

"Chap called Yougouian was suspected

of being in with them. He's a dealer.

Headquarters in Stamboul but he has a

shop in Paris. Nothing proved against

him — but he's a slippery customer."

Poirot sighed. He looked at his little

notebook. In it was written: America,

Australia, Italy, Prance, Turkey....

He murmured:

"I'll put a girdle round the earth —/"