He remembered that he was slightly acquainted with Superintendent Spence of the Oatshire police and he also remembered that young Mellon lived not very far from Warmsley Heath, and that young Mellon knew Jeremy Cloade.

It was while he was meditating a telephone call to young Mellon that George came in and announced that a Mr Rowland Cloade would like to see him.

"Aha," said Hercule Poirot with satisfaction. "Show him in."

A good-looking worried young man was shown in, and seemed rather at a loss how to begin.

"Well, Mr Cloade," said Poirot helpfully, "and what can I do for you?"

Rowley Cloade was eyeing Poirot rather doubtfully. The flamboyant moustaches, the sartorial elegance, the white spats and the pointed patent leather shoes all filled this insular young man with distinct misgivings.

Poirot realised this perfectly well, and was somewhat amused.

Rowley Cloade began rather heavily:

"I'm afraid I'll have to explain who I am and all that. You won't know my name -"

Poirot interrupted him:

"But yes, I know your name perfectly. Your aunt, you see, came to see me last week."

"My aunt?" Rowley's jaw dropped.

He stared at Poirot with the utmost astonishment.

This so clearly was news to him, that Poirot put aside his first surmise which was that the two visits were connected.

For a moment it seemed to him a remarkable coincidence that two members of the Cloade family should choose to consult him within such a short period of time, but a second later he realised that there was no coincidence - merely a natural sequence proceeding from one initial cause.

Aloud he said:

"I assume that Mrs Lionel Cloade is your aunt."

If anything Rowley looked rather more astonished than before.

He said with the utmost incredulity:

"Aunt Kathie? Surely - don't you mean - Mrs Jeremy Cloade?"

Poirot shook his head.

"But what on earth could Aunt Kathie -"

Poirot murmured discreetly:

"She was directed to me, I understand, by spirit guidance."

"Oh Lord!" said Rowley. He looked relieved and amused. He said, as though reassuring Poirot, "She's quite harmless, you know."

"I wonder," said Poirot.

"What do you mean?"

"Is anybody - ever - quite harmless?"

Rowley stared. Poirot sighed.

"You have come to me to ask me something? - Yes?" he prompted gently.

The worried look came back to Rowley's face.

"It's rather a long story, I'm afraid -"

Poirot was afraid of it, too. He had a very shrewd idea that Rowley Cloade was not the sort of person to come to the point quickly. He leaned back and half closed his eyes as Rowley began:

"My uncle, you see, was Gordon Cloade -"

"I know all about Gordon Cloade," said Poirot, helpfully.