"There's something in it, no doubt," said Battle thoughtfully. "I couldn't work that way myself, though."
Poirot said, still smiling, "I feel I have done very little in comparison with you and with Mrs. Oliver - and with Colonel Race.
My cards, that I place on the table, are very low ones."
Battle twinkled at him.
"As to that, Monsieur Poirot, the two of trumps is a low card, but it can take anyone of three aces.
All the same, I'm going to ask you to do a practical job of work."
"And that is?"
"I want you to interview Professor Luxmore's widow."
"And why do you not do that yourself?"
"Because, as I said just now, I'm off to Devonshire."
"Why do you not do that yourself?" repeated Poirot.
"Won't be put off, will you?
Well, I'll speak the truth. I think you'll get more out of her than I shall."
"My methods being less straightforward?"
"You can put it that way if you like," said Battle, grinning. "I've heard Inspector Japp say that you've got a tortuous mind."
"Like the late Mr. Shaitana?"
"You think he would have been able to get things out of her?"
Poirot said slowly, "I rather think he did get things out of her!"
"What makes you think so?" asked Battle sharply.
"A chance remark of Major Despard's."
"Gave himself away, did he?
That sounds unlike him."
"Oh, my dear friend, it is impossible not to give oneself away - unless one never opens one's mouth!
Speech is the deadliest of revealers."
"Even if people tell lies?" asked Mrs. Oliver.
"Yes, madame, because it can be seen at once that you tell a certain kind of lie."
"You make me feel quite uncomfortable," said Mrs. Oliver, getting up.
Superintendent Battle accompanied her to the door and shook her warmly by the hand.
"You've been the goods, Mrs. Oliver," he said. "You're a much better detective than that long lanky Laplander of yours."
"Finn," corrected Mrs. Oliver. "Of course he's idiotic.
But people like him.
Good-by."
"I, too, must depart," said Poirot.
Battle scribbled an address on a piece of paper and shoved it into Poirot's hand. "There you are.
Go and tackle her."
Poirot smiled. "And what do you want me to find out?"
"The truth about Professor Luxmore's death."
"Mon cher Battle!
Does anybody know the truth about anything?"
"I'm going to about this business in Devonshire," said the superintendent with decision.
Poirot murmured, "I wonder."
Chapter 20 THE EVIDENCE OF MRS. LUXMORE
The maid who opened the door at Mrs. Luxmore's South Kensington addressed looked at Hercule Poirot with deep disapproval.
She showed no disposition to admit him into the house.
Unperturbed Poirot gave her a card.
"Give that to your mistress.
I think she will see me."
It was one of his more ostentatious cards.
The words Private Detective were printed in one corner.
He had had them especially engraved for the purpose of obtaining interviews with the so-called fair sex.