"Yes. Chuck up the whole thing. Go out to Canada or somewhere and start again."
"I'm sure that would be a pity," said Jane firmly.
Norman looked at her.
Poirot tactfully became engrossed with his chicken.
"I don't want to go," said Norman.
"If I discover who killed Madame Giselle, you will not have to go," said Poirot cheerfully.
"Do you really think you will?" asked Jane.
Poirot looked at her reproachfully.
"If one approaches a problem with order and method, there should be no difficulty in solving it; none whatever," said Poirot severely.
"Oh, I see," said Jane, who didn't.
"But I should solve this problem quicker if I had help," said Poirot.
"What kind of help?"
Poirot did not speak for a moment or two. Then he said:
"Help from Mr Gale.
And perhaps, later, help from you also."
"What can I do?" asked Norman.
Poirot shot a sideways glance at him.
"You will not like it," he said warningly.
"What is it?" repeated the young man impatiently.
Very delicately, so as not to offend English susceptibilities, Poirot used a toothpick.
Then he said: "Frankly, what I need is a blackmailer."
"A blackmailer?" exclaimed Norman. He stared at Poirot as a man does who cannot believe his ears.
Poirot nodded.
"Precisely," he said. "A blackmailer."
"But what for?"
"Parbleu! To blackmail."
"Yes, but I mean, who? Why?"
"Why," said Poirot, "is my business. As to who -" He paused for a moment, then went on in a calm businesslike tone:
"Here is the plan I will outline for you.
You will write a note - that is to say, I will write a note and you will copy it - to the Countess of Horbury.
You will mark it Personal.
In the note you will ask for an interview.
You will recall yourself to her memory as having traveled to England by air on a certain occasion. You will also refer to certain business dealings of Madame Giselle's having passed into your hands."
"And then?"
"And then you will be accorded an interview.
You will go and you will say certain things - in which I will instruct you. You will ask for - let me see - ten thousand pounds."
"You're mad!"
"Not at all," said Poirot. "I am eccentric, possibly, but mad, no."
"And suppose Lady Horbury sends for the police.
I shall go to prison."
"She will not send for the police."
"You can't know that."
"Mon cher, practically speaking, I know everything!"
"And anyway I don't like it."
"You will not get the ten thousand pounds - if that makes your conscience any clearer," said Poirot with a twinkle.
"Yes, but look here, M. Poirot; this is the sort of wildcat scheme that might ruin me for life."
"Ta-ta-ta. The lady will not go to the police - that I assure you."
"She may tell her husband."
"She will not tell her husband."
"I don't like it."