‘I suppose not,’ conceded Bryan. ‘But it makes me mad sometimes. All the same, I’m devoted to Jane, though in some ways, mind you, I don’t think she’s quite all there.’

‘On the contrary, I should say she was very much on the spot.’

‘I don’t mean that, exactly. She can look after her interests all right. She’s got plenty of business shrewdness. No, I mean morally.’

‘Ah! morally.’

‘She’s what they call amoral. Right and wrong don’t exist for her.’

‘Ah! I remember you said something of the kind the other evening.’

‘We were talking of crime just now-’

‘Yes, my friend?’

‘Well, it would never surprise me if Jane committed a crime.’

‘And you should know her well,’ murmured Poirot thoughtfully. ‘You have acted much with her, have you not?’

‘Yes. I suppose I know her through and through and up and down. I can see her killing, and quite easily.’

‘Ah! she has the hot temper, yes?’

‘No, no, not at all. Cool as a cucumber. I mean if anyone were in her way she’d just remove them-without a thought. And one couldn’t really blame her-morally, I mean. She’d just think that anyone who interfered with Jane Wilkinson had got to go.’

There was a bitterness in his last words that had been lacking heretofore. I wondered what memory he was recalling.

‘You think she would do-murder?’

Poirot watched him intently.

Bryan drew a deep breath.

‘Upon my soul, I do. Perhaps one of these days, you’ll remember my words…Iknow her, you see. She’d kill as easily as she’d drink her morning tea.I mean it, M. Poirot.’

He had risen to his feet.

‘Yes,’ said Poirot quietly. ‘I can see you mean it.’

‘I know her,’ said Bryan Martin again, ‘through and through.’