Boracic powder my eye!
The white powder in that bottle was cocaine."
Poirot's eyes opened a little.
He nodded his head slowly.
"Nothing much to do with our case, perhaps," said Japp. "But you don't need me to tell you that a woman who's got the cocaine habit hasn't got much moral restraint.
I've an idea, anyway, that her ladyship wouldn't stick at much to get what she wanted, in spite of all that helpless feminine business.
All the same, I doubt if she'd have the nerve to carry a thing like this through. And frankly, I can't see that it was possible for her to do it.
The whole thing is a bit of a teaser."
Poirot gathered up the loose typewritten sheets and read them through once again. Then he laid them down with a sigh.
"On the face of it," he said, "it seems to point very plainly to one person as having committed the crime. And yet, I cannot see why, or even how."
Japp stared at him.
"Are you pretending that by reading all this stuff you've got an idea who did it?"
"I think so."
Japp seized the papers from him and read them through, handing each sheet over to Fournier when he had finished with it.
Then he slapped them down on the table and stared at Poirot.
"Are you pulling my leg, Moosior Poirot?"
"No, no.
Quelle idee!"
The Frenchman in his turn laid down the sheets. "What about you, Fournier?" The Frenchman shook his head.
"I may be stupid," he said, "but I cannot see that this list advances us much."
"Not by itself," said Poirot, "but taken in conjunction with certain features of the case... No? Well, it may be that I am wrong - quite wrong."
"Well, come out with your theory," said Japp.
"I'll be interested to hear it, at all events."
Poirot shook his head.
"No, as you say, it is a theory - a theory only.
I hoped to find a certain object on that list.
Eh bien, I have found it. It is there.
But it seems to point in the wrong direction.
The right clue on the wrong person.
That means there is much work to be done, and truly, there is much that is still obscure to me.
I cannot see my way.
Only, certain facts seem to stand out, to arrange themselves in a significant pattern.
You do not find it so?
No, I see you do not.
Let us, then, each work to his own idea.
I have no certainty, I tell you; only a certain suspicion."
"I believe you're just talking through your hat," said Japp. He rose. "Well, let's call it a day.
I work the London end, you return to Paris, Fournier - and what about our M. Poirot?"
"I still wish to accompany M. Fournier to Paris - more than ever now."
"More than ever?
I'd like to know just what kind of maggot you've got in your brain."
"Maggot?
Ce n'est pas joli, зa!"
Fournier shook hands ceremoniously.
"I wish you good evening, with many thanks for your delightful hospitality.
We will meet, then, at Croydon tomorrow morning?"
"Exactly.
А demain."
"Let us hope," said Fournier, "that nobody will murder us en route."
The two detectives departed.