"Evidence that there was blackmail, yes. Evidence of intent to commit murder, no. You cannot have it both ways, mon cher. Either that young man was going to pay up, or else he was planning to kill. You have produced evidence that he was planning to pay."

"Yes - yes, perhaps that is so. But he may have changed his mind."

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

"I know this type," said the Superintendent thoughtfully. "It's a type that's done well during the war. Any amount of physical courage. Audacity and a reckless disregard of personal safety. The sort that will face any odds. It's the kind that is likely to win the V.C. - though, mind you, it's often a posthumous one. Yes, in wartime, a man like that is a hero. But in peace - well, in peace such men usually end up in prison. They like excitement and they can't run straight, and they don't give a damn for society - and finally they've no regard for human life."

Poirot nodded.

"I tell you," the Superintendent repeated, "I know the type."

There was some few minutes of silence.

"Eh bien," said Poirot at last. "We agree that we have here the type of a killer. But that is all. It takes us no further."

Spence looked at him with curiosity.

"You're taking a great interest in this business, M. Poirot?"

"Yes."

"Why, if I may ask?"

"Frankly," Poirot spread out his hands, "I do not quite know. Perhaps it is because when two years ago, I am sitting very sick in my stomach (for I did not like Air Raids, and I am not very brave though I endeavour to put up the good appearance) when, as I say, I am sitting with a sick feeling here," Poirot clasped his stomach expressively, "in the smoking-room of my friend's club, there, droning away, is the club bore, the good Major Porter, recounting a long history to which nobody listens, but me, I listen, because I am wishful to distract myself from the bombs, and because the facts he is relating seem to me interesting and suggestive. And I think to myself that it is possible that some day something may come of the situation he recounts. And now something has come of it."

"The unexpected has happened, eh?"

"On the contrary," Poirot corrected him. "It is the expected that has happened - which in itself is sufficiently remarkable."

"You expected murder?" Spence asked sceptically.

"No, no, no! But a wife remarries. Possibility that first husband is still alive? He is alive. He may turn up? He does turn up! There may be blackmail. There is blackmail! Possibility, therefore, that the blackmailer may be silenced? Ma foi - he is silenced!"

"Well," said Spence, eyeing Poirot rather doubtfully. "I suppose these things run pretty close to type. It's a common sort of crime - blackmail resulting in murder."

"Not interesting, you would say? Usually, no. But this case is interesting, because, you see," said Poirot placidly, "it is all wrong."