‘How well you express it! That is exactly the curse of a politician’s life. He has to bow to the country’s feeling, however dangerous and foolhardy he knows it to be.’

‘That was your dilemma, I think. There were rumours that you had concluded an agreement with the country in question. This country and the newspapers were up in arms about it. Fortunately the Prime Minister was able categorically to deny the story, and you repudiated it, though still making no secret of the way your sympathies lay.’

‘All this is quite true, M. Poirot, but why rake up past history?’

‘Because I consider it possible that an enemy, disappointed in the way you surmounted that crisis, might endeavour to stage a further dilemma. You soon regained public confidence. Those particular circumstances have passed away, you are now, deservedly, one of the most popular figures in political life. You are spoken of freely as the next Prime Minister when Mr Hunberly retires.’

‘You think this is an attempt to discredit me? Nonsense!’

‘Tout de même, Lord Mayfield, it would not look well if it were known that the plans of Britain’s new bomber had been stolen during a weekend when a certain very charming lady had been your guest. Little hints in the newspapers as to your relationship with that lady would create a feeling of distrust in you.’

‘Such a thing could not really be taken seriously.’

‘My dear Lord Mayfield, you know perfectly well it could! It takes so little to undermine public confidence in a man.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ said Lord Mayfield. He looked suddenly very worried. ‘God! how desperately complicated this business is becoming. Do you really think—but it’s impossible—impossible.’

‘You know of nobody who is—jealous of you?’

‘Absurd!’

‘At any rate you will admit that my questions about your personal relationships with the members of this house-party are not totally irrelevant.’

‘Oh, perhaps—perhaps. You asked me about Julia Carrington. There’s really not very much to say. I’ve never taken to her very much, and I don’t think she cares for me. She’s one of these restless, nervy women, recklessly extravagant and mad about cards. She’s old-fashioned enough, I think, to despise me as being a self-made man.’

Poirot said:

‘I looked you up in Who’s Who before I came down. You were the head of a famous engineering firm and you are yourself a first-class engineer.’

‘There’s certainly nothing I don’t know about the practical side. I’ve worked my way up from the bottom.’

Lord Mayfield spoke rather grimly.

‘Oh la la!’ cried Poirot. ‘I have been a fool—but a fool!’

The other stared at him.

‘I beg your pardon, M. Poirot?’

‘It is that a portion of the puzzle has become clear to me. Something I did not see before…But it all fits in. Yes—it fits in with beautiful precision.’

Lord Mayfield looked at him in somewhat astonished inquiry.

But with a slight smile Poirot shook his head.

‘No, no, not now. I must arrange my ideas a little more clearly.’