‘You don’t think—?’

‘I am quite sure that that would be the wise course to take.’

Lord Mayfield shrugged his shoulders.

‘Well, if you say so.’

He went out.

Chapter 8

The guests left after lunch. Mrs Vanderlyn and Mrs Macatta went by train, the Carringtons had their car. Poirot was standing in the hall as Mrs Vanderlyn bade her host a charming farewell.

‘So terribly sorry for you having this bother and anxiety. I do hope it will turn out all right for you. I shan’t breathe a word of anything.’

She pressed his hand and went out to where the Rolls was waiting to take her to the station. Mrs Macatta was already inside. Her adieu had been curt and unsympathetic.

Suddenly Leonie, who had been getting in front with the chauffeur, came running back into the hall.

‘The dressing-case of madame, it is not in the car,’ she exclaimed.

There was a hurried search. At last Lord Mayfield discovered it where it had been put down in the shadow of an old oak chest. Leonie uttered a glad little cry as she seized the elegant affair of green morocco, and hurried out with it.

Then Mrs Vanderlyn leaned out of the car.

‘Lord Mayfield, Lord Mayfield.’ She handed him a letter. ‘Would you mind putting this in your post-bag? If I keep it meaning to post it in town, I’m sure to forget. Letters just stay in my bag for days.’

Sir George Carrington was fidgeting with his watch, opening and shutting it. He was a maniac for punctuality.

‘They’re cutting it fine,’ he murmured. ‘Very fine. Unless they’re careful, they’ll miss the train—’

His wife said irritably:

‘Oh, don’t fuss, George. After all, it’s their train, not ours!’

He looked at her reproachfully.

The Rolls drove off.

Reggie drew up at the front door in the Carringtons’ Morris.

‘All ready, Father,’ he said.

The servants began bringing out the Carringtons’ luggage. Reggie supervised its disposal in the dickey.

Poirot moved out of the front door, watching the proceedings.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm. Lady Julia’s voice spoke in an agitated whisper.

‘M. Poirot. I must speak to you—at once.’

He yielded to her insistent hand. She drew him into a small morning-room and closed the door. She came close to him.

‘Is it true what you said—that the discovery of the papers is what matters most to Lord Mayfield?’

Poirot looked at her curiously.

‘It is quite true, madame.’

‘If—if those papers were returned to you, would you undertake that they should be given back to Lord Mayfield, and no question asked?’

‘I am not sure that I understand you.’

‘You must! I am sure that you do! I am suggesting that the—the thief should remain anonymous if the papers are returned.’

Poirot asked:

‘How soon would that be, madame?’

‘Definitely within twelve hours.’

‘You can promise that?’

‘I can promise it.’

As he did not answer, she repeated urgently:

‘Will you guarantee that there will be no publicity?’