He stood frowning for a minute, then with a change of tone, he said:

‘As to this business we’ve been talking about, I’ll let you know, M. Poirot, in a few days. You will undertake it, won’t you?’

Poirot looked at him for a moment or two without replying.

‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I will undertake it. I find it-interesting.’ 

There was something queer in the way he said the last word. I went downstairs with Bryan Martin. At the door he said to me:

‘Did you get the hang of what he meant about that fellow’s age? I mean, why was it interesting that he should be about thirty? I didn’t get the hang of that at all.’

‘No more did I,’ I admitted.

‘It doesn’t seem to make sense. Perhaps he was just having a game with me.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Poirot is not like that. Depend upon it, the point has significance since he says so.’

‘Well, blessed if I can see it. Glad you can’t either. I’d hate to feel I was a complete nut.’

He strode away. I rejoined my friend.

‘Poirot,’ I said. ‘What was the point about the age of the shadower?’

‘You do not see? My poor Hastings!’ He smiled and shook his head. Then he asked: ‘What did you think of our interview on the whole?’

‘There’s so little to go upon. It seems difficult to say. If we knew more-’

‘Even without knowing more, do not certain ideas suggest themselves to you,mon ami?’

The telephone ringing at that moment saved me from the ignominy of admitting that no ideas whatever suggested themselves to me. I took up the receiver. 

A woman’s voice spoke, a crisp, clear efficient voice.

‘This is Lord Edgware’s secretary speaking. Lord Edgware regrets that he must cancel the appointment with M. Poirot for tomorrow morning. He has to go over to Paris tomorrow unexpectedly. He could see M. Poirot for a few minutes at a quarter-past twelve this morning if that would be convenient.’