After six o’clock that evening the small boy who had handed in the telegram was found.
He told his story promptly. He had been given the telegram by a man dressed in shabby clothes. The man told him that the telegram had been given him by a “loony lady” in the “House in the Park.”
She had dropped it out of the window wrapped round two half-crowns.
The man was afraid to be mixed up in some funny business, and was tramping in the other direction, so he had given the boy two and six and told him to keep the change.
A search would be instituted for the man. In the meantime there seemed nothing more to be done, and Poirot and Mr. Satterthwaite returned to London.
It was close on midnight when the two men arrived back in town.
Egg had gone back to her mother, but Sir Charles met them, and the three men discussed the situation.
“Mon ami,” said Poirot, “be guided by me. Only one thing will solve this case - the little grey cells of the brain.
To rush up and down England, to hope that this person and that will tell us what we want to know - all such methods are amateurish and absurd.
The truth can only be seen from within.”
Sir Charles looked slightly sceptical.
“What do you want to do, then?”
“I want to think.
I ask of you twenty-four house - in which to think.”
Sir Charles shook his head with a slight smile.
“Will thinking tell you what it was this woman could have said if she lived?”
“I believe so.”
“It hardly seems possible.
However, M. Poirot, you must have it your own way.
If you can see through this mystery, it’s more than I can.
I’m beaten, and I confess it.
In any case, I’ve other fish to fry.”
Perhaps he hoped to be questioned, but if so his expectation was disappointed.
Mr. Satterthwaite did indeed look up alertly, but Poirot remained lost in thought.
“Well, I must be off,” said the actor. “Oh, just one thing. I’m rather worried about - Miss Wills.”
“What about her?”
“She’s gone.”
Poirot stared at him.
“Gone?
Gone where?”
“Nobody knows... I was thinking things over after I got your telegram.
As I told you at the time, I felt convinced that that woman knew something she hadn’t told us. I thought I’d have a last shot at getting it out of her.
I drove out to her house - it was about half-past nine when I got there - and asked for her. It appears she left home this morning - went up to London for the day - that’s what she said.
Her people got a telegram in the evening saying she wasn’t returning for a day or so and not to worry.”
“And were they worrying?”
“I gather they were, rather.
You see, she hadn’t taken any luggage with her.”
“Odd,” murmured Poirot.
“I know.
It seems as though - I don’t know. I feel uneasy.”
“I warned her,” said Poirot. “I warned everyone. You remember I said to them, ‘Speak now.’”
“Yes, yes.
Do you think that she, too - ?”
“I have my ideas,” said Poirot. “For the moment I prefer not to discuss them.”
“Fist, the butler - Ellis - then Miss Wills. Where is Ellis?
It’s incredible that the police have never been able to lay hands on him.”
“They have not looked for his body in the right place,” said Poirot.
“Then you agree with Egg.
You think he is dead?”
“Ellis will never be seen alive again.”