There was a pause. Poirot seemed to be debating the matter in his mind. Finally he said:

‘Why have you come to me before going to her?’

‘Well, I thought-’ he hesitated. ‘I wanted to persuade her to-to clear things up-I mean to let things be cleared up by you. What I mean is, ifyou investigate the affair, nothing need be made public, need it?’

‘That depends,’ said Poirot calmly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘If there is any question of crime-’

‘Oh! there’s no crime concerned.’

‘You do not know. There may be.’

‘But you would do your best for her-for us?’

‘That, naturally.’

He was silent for a moment and then said:

‘Tell me, this follower of yours-this shadow-of what age was he?’ 

‘Oh! quite youngish. About thirty.’

‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘That is indeed remarkable. Yes, that makes the whole thing very much more interesting.’

I stared at him. So did Bryan Martin. This remark of his was, I am sure, equally unexplicable to us both. Bryan questioned me with a lift of the eyebrows. I shook my head.

‘Yes,’ murmured Poirot. ‘It makes the whole story very interesting.’

‘Hemay have been older,’ said Bryan doubtfully, ‘but I don’t think so.’

‘No, no, I am sure your observation is quite accurate, M. Martin. Very interesting-extraordinarily interesting.’

Rather taken aback by Poirot’s enigmatical words, Bryan Martin seemed at a loss what to say or do next. He started making desultory conversation.

‘An amusing party the other night,’ he said. ‘Jane Wilkinson is the most high-handed woman that ever existed.’

‘She has the single vision,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘One thing at a time.’

‘She gets away with it, too,’ said Martin. ‘How people stand it, I don’t know!’

‘One will stand a good deal from a beautiful woman, my friend,’ said Poirot with a twinkle. ‘If she had the pug nose, the sallow skin, the greasy hair, then-ah! then she would not “get away with it” as you put it.’