Chapter 21  AT THE TENNIS 

Several days had elapsed. Katherine had been for a walk by herself one morning, and came back to find Lenox grinning at her expectantly. 

"Your young man has been ringing you up, Katherine!" 

"Who do you call my young man?" 

"A new one - Rufus Van Aldin's secretary. You seem to have made rather an impression there. You are becoming a serious breaker of hearts, Katherine. First Derek Kettering, and now this young Knighton. The funny thing is, that I remember him quite well. He was in Mother's War Hospital that she ran out here. I was only a kid of about eight at the time." 

"Was he badly wounded?" 

"Shot in the leg, if I remember rightly - rather a nasty business. I think the doctors messed it up a bit. They said he wouldn't limp or anything, but when he left here he was still completely dot and go one." 

Lady Tamplin came out and joined them. 

"Have you been telling Katherine about Major Knighton?" she asked. "Such a dear fellow! Just at first I didn't remember him - one had so many - but now it all comes back." 

"He was a bit too unimportant to be remembered before," said Lenox. "Now that he is a secretary to an American millionaire, it is a very different matter." 

"Darling!" said Lady Tamplin in her vague reproachful voice. 

"What did Major Knighton ring up about?" inquired Katherine. 

"He asked if you would like to go to the tennis this afternoon. If so, he would call for you in a car. Mother and I accepted for you with empressement. Whilst you dally with a millionaire's secretary, you might give me a chance with the millionaire, Katherine. He is about sixty, I suppose, so that he will be looking about for a nice sweet young thing like me." 

"I should like to meet Mr Van Aldin," said Lady Tamplin earnestly, 

"one has heard so much of him. Those fine rugged figures of the Western world -" she broke off - "so fascinating," she murmured. 

"Major Knighton was very particular to say it was Mr Van Aldin's invitation," said Lenox. "He said it so often that I began to smell a rat. You and Knighton would make a very nice pair, Katherine. Bless you, my children!" 

Katherine laughed, and went upstairs to change her clothes. 

Knighton arrived soon after lunch and endured manfully Lady Tamplin's transports of recognition. 

When they were driving together towards Cannes he remarked to 

Katherine: "Lady Tamplin has changed wonderfully little." 

"In manner or appearance?" 

"Both. She must be, I suppose, well over forty, but she is a remarkably beautiful woman still." 

"She is," agreed Katherine. 

"I am very glad that you could come today," went on Knighton. "M. Poirot is going to be there also. What an extraordinary little man he is. Do you know him well, Miss Grey?" 

Katherine shook her head. "I met him on the train on the way here. I was reading a detective novel, and I happened to say something about such things not happening in real life - of course, I had no idea of who he was." 

"He is a very remarkable person," said Knighton slowly, "and has done some very remarkable things. He has a kind of genius for going to the root of the matter, and right up to the end no one has any idea of what he is really thinking. I remember I was staying at a house in Yorkshire, and Lady Clanravon's jewels were stolen. It seemed at first to be a simple robbery, but it completely baffled the local police. I wanted them to call in Hercule Poirot, and said he was the only man who could help them, but they pinned their faith to Scotland Yard." 

"And what happened?" said Katherine curiously. 

"The jewels were never recovered," said Knighton drily. 

"You really do believe in him?" 

"I do indeed. The Comte de la Roche is a pretty wily customer. He has wriggled out of most things. But I think he has met his match in Hercule Poirot." 

"The Comte de la Roche," said Katherine thoughtfully, "so you really think he did it?" 

"Of course." Knighton looked at her in astonishment. "Don't you?" 

"Oh yes," said Katherine hastily, "that is, I mean, if it was not just an ordinary train robbery." 

"It might be, of course," agreed the other, "but it seems to me that the Comte de la Roche fits into this business particularly well." 

"And yet he has an alibi." 

"Oh, alibis!" Knighton laughed, his face broke into his attractive boyish smile. 

"You confess that you read detective stories, Miss Grey. You must know that anyone who has a perfect alibi is always open to grave suspicion." 

"Do you think that real life is like that?" asked Katherine, smiling. 

"Why not? Fiction is founded on fact." 

"But is rather superior to it," suggested Katherine. 

"Perhaps. Anyway, if I was a criminal I should not like to have Hercule Poirot on my track." 

"No more should I," said Katherine, and laughed. 

They were met on arrival by Poirot. As the day was warm he was attired in a white duck suit, with a white camellia in his buttonhole. 

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," said Poirot. "I look very English, do I not?" 

"You look wonderful," said Katherine tactfully. 

"You mock yourself at me," said Poirot genially, "but no matter. Papa Poirot, he always laughs the last." 

"Where is Mr Van Aldin?" asked Knighton. 

"He will meet us at our seats. To tell you the truth, my friend, he is not too well pleased with me. Oh, those Americans - the repose, the calm, they know it not! Mr Van Aldin, he would that I fly myself in the pursuit of criminals through all the byways of Nice." 

"I should have thought myself that it would not have been a bad plan," observed Knighton. 

"You are wrong," said Poirot, "in these matters one needs not energy but finesse. At the tennis one meets everyone. That is so important. Ah, there is Mr Kettering." 

Derek came abruptly up to them. He looked reckless and angry, as though something had arisen to upset him. He and Knighton greeted each other with some frigidity. 

Poirot alone seemed unconscious of a sense of strain, and chatted pleasantly in a laudable attempt to put everyone at their ease. He paid little compliments. 

"It is amazing, M. Kettering, how well you speak the French," he observed - "so well that you could be taken for a Frenchman if you chose. That is a very rare accomplishment among Englishmen." 

"I wish I did," said Katherine. "I am only too well aware that my French is of a painfully British order." 

They reached their seats and sat down, and almost immediately Knighton perceived his employer signalling to him from the other end of the court, and went off to speak to him. 

"Me, I approve of that young man," said Poirot, sending a beaming smile after the departing secretary, "and you, Mademoiselle?" 

"I like him very much." 

"And you, M. Kettering?" 

Some quick rejoinder was springing to Derek's lips, but he checked it as though something in the little Belgian's twinkling eyes had made him suddenly alert. He spoke carefully, choosing his words. 

"Knighton is a very good fellow," he said. Just for a moment Katherine fancied that Poirot looked disappointed. 

"He is a great admirer of yours, M. Poirot," she said, and she related some of the things that Knighton had said. It amused her to see the little man plume himself like a bird, thrusting out his chest, and assuming an air of mock modesty that would have deceived no one. 

"That reminds me, Mademoiselle," he said suddenly, "I have a little matter of business I have to speak to you about. When you were sitting talking to that poor lady in the train, I think you must have dropped a cigarette case." 

Katherine looked rather astonished. "I don't think so," she said. Poirot drew from his pocket a cigarette case of soft blue leather, with the initial "K" on it in gold. 

"No, that is not mine," Katherine said. 

"Ah, a thousand apologies. It was doubtless Madame's own. 'K' of course, stands for Kettering. We were doubtful, because she had another cigarette case in her bag, and it seemed odd that she should have two." 

He turned to Derek suddenly. "You do not know, I suppose, whether this was your wife's case or not?" 

Derek seemed momentarily taken aback. He stammered a little in 

his reply: "I - I don't know. I suppose so." 

"It is not yours by any chance?" 

"Certainly not. If it were mine it would hardly have been in my wife's possession." 

Poirot looked more ingenuous and childlike than ever. 

"I thought perhaps you might have dropped it when you were in your wife's compartment," he explained guilelessly. 

"I never was there. I have already told the police that a dozen times." 

"A thousand pardons," said Poirot, with his most apologetic air. "It was Mademoiselle here who mentioned having seen you going in." 

He stopped with an air of embarrassment. 

Katherine looked at Derek. His face had gone rather white, but perhaps that was her fancy. His laugh, when it came, was natural enough. 

"You made a mistake, Miss Grey," he said easily. "From what the police have told me, I gather that my own compartment was only a door or two away from that of my wife's - though I never suspected the fact at the time. You must have seen me going into my own compartment." He got up quickly as he saw Van Aldin and Knighton approaching. 

"I'm going to leave you now," he announced. "I can't stand my father-in-law at any price." 

Van Aldin greeted Katherine very courteously, but was clearly in a bad humour. 

"You seem fond of watching tennis, M. Poirot," he growled. 

"It is a pleasure to me, yes," cried Poirot placidly. 

"It is as well you are in France," said Van Aldin. "We are made of sterner stuff in the States. Business comes before pleasure there." 

Poirot did not take offence; indeed, he smiled gently and confidingly at the irate millionaire. 

"Do not enrage yourself, I beg of you. Everyone has his own methods. Me, I have always found it a delightful and pleasing idea to combine business and pleasure together." 

He glanced at the other two. They were deep in conversation, absorbed in each other. Poirot nodded his head in satisfaction, and then leant towards the millionaire, lowering his voice as he did so. 

"It is not only for pleasure that I am here, M. Van Aldin. Observe just opposite us that ill old man - the one with the yellow face and the venerable beard." 

"Well, what of him?" 

"That," Poirot said, "is M. Papopolous." 

"A Greek, eh?" 

"As you say - a Greek. He is a dealer in antiques of world-wide reputation. He has a small shop in Paris, and he is suspected by the police of being something more." 

"What?" 

"A receiver of stolen goods, especially jewels. There is nothing as to the re-cutting and re-setting of gems that he does not know. He deals with the highest in Europe and with the lowest of the riff-raff of the underworld." 

Van Aldin was looking at Poirot with suddenly awakened attention. 

"Well?" he demanded, a new note in his voice. 

"I ask myself," said Poirot, "I, Hercule Poirot -" he thumped himself dramatically on the chest - "ask myself why is M. Papopolous suddenly come to Nice?" 

Van Aldin was impressed. For a moment he had doubted Poirot and suspected the little man of being past his job, a poseur only - now, in a moment, he switched back to his original opinion. He looked straight at the little detective. 

"I must apologize to you, M. Poirot." 

Poirot waved the apology aside with an extravagant gesture. 

"Bah!" he cried, "all that is of no importance. Now listen, M. Van Aldin; I have news for you." 

The millionaire looked sharply at him, all his interest aroused. 

Poirot nodded. 

"It is as I say. You will be interested. As you know, M. Van Aldin, the Comte de la Roche has been under surveillance ever since his interview with the Juge d'Instruction. The day after that, during his absence, the Villa Marina was searched by the police." 

"Well," said Van Aldin, "did they find anything? I bet they didn't." 

Poirot made him a little bow. 

"Your acumen is not at fault, M. Van Aldin. They found nothing of an incriminating nature. It was not to be expected that they would. The Comte de la Roche, as your expressive idiom has it, was not born on the preceding day. He is an astute gentleman with great experience." 

"Well, go on," growled Van Aldin. 

"It may be, of course, that the Comte had nothing of a compromising nature to conceal. But we must not neglect the possibility. If then, he has something to conceal, where is it? Not in his house - the police searched thoroughly. Not on his person, for he knows that he is liable to arrest at any minute. There remains - his car. As I say, he was under surveillance. He was followed on that day to Monte Carlo. From there he went by road to Mentone, driving himself. His car is a very powerful one, it outdistanced his pursuers and for about a quarter of an hour they completely lost sight of him." 

"And during that time you think he concealed something by the roadside?" asked Van Aldin, keenly interested. 

"By the roadside, no. ?a n'est pas pratique. But listen now - me, I have made a little suggestion to M. Carrege. He is graciously pleased to approve of it. In each Bureau de Poste in the neighbourhood it has been seen to that there is someone who knows the Comte de la Roche by sight. Because, you see, Messieurs, the best way of hiding a thing is by sending it away by the post." 

"Well?" demanded Van Aldin; his face was keenly alight with interest and expectation. 

"Well -" With a dramatic flourish Poirot drew out from his pocket a loosely wrapped brown paper package from which the string had 

been removed. 

"During that quarter of an hour's interval, our good gentleman mailed this." 

"The address?" asked the other sharply. 

Poirot nodded his head. 

"Might have told us something, but unfortunately it does not. The package was addressed to one of these little newspaper shops in Paris where letters and parcels are kept until called for on payment of a small commission." 

"Yes, but what is inside?" demanded Van Aldin impatiently. 

Poirot unwrapped the brown paper and disclosed a square cardboard box. He looked round him. 

"It is a good moment," he said quietly. "All eyes are on the tennis. Look, Monsieur!" 

He lifted the lid of the box for the fraction of a second. An exclamation of utter astonishment came from the millionaire. His face turned as white as chalk. 

"My God!" he breathed, "the rubies." 

He sat for a minute as though dazed. Poirot restored the box to his pocket. Then suddenly the millionaire seemed to come out of his trance; he leaned across to Poirot and wrung his hand so heartily that the little man winced with pain. 

"This is great," said Van Aldin. "Great! You are the goods, M. Poirot. Once and for all, you are the goods." 

"It is nothing," said Poirot modestly. "Order, method, being prepared for eventualities beforehand - that is all there is to it." 

"And now, I suppose, the Comte de la Roche has been arrested?" continued Van Aldin eagerly. 

"No," said Poirot. 

A look of utter astonishment came over Van Aldin's face. 

"But why? What more do you want?" 

"The Comte's alibi is still unshaken." 

"But that is nonsense." 

"Yes," said Poirot, "I rather think it is nonsense, but unfortunately we have to prove it so." 

"In the meantime he will slip through your fingers." 

Poirot shook his head very energetically. 

"No," he said, "he will not do that. The one thing the Comte cannot afford to sacrifice is his social position. At all costs he must stop and brazen it out." 

Van Aldin was still dissatisfied. 

"But I don't see -" 

Poirot raised a hand. "Grant me a little moment, Monsieur. Me, I have a little idea. Many have mocked themselves at the little ideas of Hercule Poirot - and they have been wrong." 

"Well," said Van Aldin, "go ahead. What is this little idea?" 

Poirot paused for a moment and then he said: 

"I will call upon you at your hotel at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. Until then, say nothing to anyone." 

第二十一章 网球场上

    几天时光转瞬而逝。一天早晨，卡泰丽娜女士只身散步归来。当她回到客厅的时候，雷诺斯又说又笑地迎接了她。

    “你那可爱的人给你打过电话，卡泰丽娜。”

    “你指的是谁？”

    “是个新的——鲁夫斯·冯·阿尔丁的秘书。看来你给这个人留下了深刻的印象。

卡泰丽娜，看来随着年华车轮的转动，你将变成一位女性的卡萨诺瓦（意大利有名的爱情冒险家。译注）。起先是德里克·凯特林，现在又是年轻的奈顿。最有趣的是，我现在还能记起当时的情景。那时他住过我妈妈开办的战时医院。”

    “他伤得很重吗？”

    “腿部中过一颗子弹，医生治疗得不太理想。他现在走起路来还有点瘸。”

    坦普林女士出现在她俩的面前。

    “你把奈顿少校的事讲给卡泰丽娜听了？”她问道。“他是那样可爱的一个小伙子！开始我并没有认出他来……那时有那么多的伤病员，可是现在，当时的情景又重现在眼前。”

    “那时他就是一位引人注目的人物。”雷诺斯说道，“现在，他当上了美国一位百万富翁的秘书，就更有兴趣回忆回忆他了。”

    “可是，我那亲爱的！”坦普林女士说道，语调温和却有点生气。

    “奈顿少校干嘛要打电话？”卡泰丽娜以试探的口气问道。

    “他问，你是否今天下午去打网球。要是有兴趣，他就用车来接你。妈妈和我当然以你的名义极其高兴地接受了他的邀请。”

    “我十分想同冯·阿尔丁先生认识一下。”坦普林女士严肃的说道。“这个西方有权有势而又冷酷的人物……”她略停了片刻，“真吸引人哪！”

    “奈顿少校在电话里一再强调说，这是以冯·阿尔丁先生的名义邀请的。”雷诺斯说道，“这样反而加重了我的疑心。你同奈顿真是天生的一对。我祝贺你，亲爱的。”

    卡泰丽娜笑容满面地上楼换衣服去了。

    “我非常高兴，你接受了邀请。”这天下午，当卡泰丽娜在汽车里坐在少校身旁时，奈顿对她说道。“波洛先生也去打网球。他是一位多么有趣的人哪！格蕾小姐，您认识他很久了吗？”

    卡泰丽娜摇摇头。“我只是在到这里来的路上，在火车上认识他的。”

    “这个人具有一种特殊的天才，很善于分析事物的本质，而自己对事物的真正看法却不轻率地表露。我记得有一次我到约克州一庄园里做客，那正是卡旺女士的首饰被窃的时候。事件看来完全象是一起通常的盗窃案件，可是当地的警察却无从下手。我当时建议他们请波洛来，并说，这是唯一能够帮他们忙的人。可是这帮警察当时只相信苏格兰的亚德。”

    “后来怎样呢？”

    “首饰仍然无影无踪。”奈顿干巴巴地说道。

    “您真相信他？”

    “当然。罗歇伯爵是个纨裤子弟。他三番五次地摆脱了困境，可是这一次他落到赫库勒·波洛的手里，那可真碰上了死对头。”

    “罗歇伯爵？”卡泰丽娜一面想着一面说道，“您也认为他就是凶手？”

    “当然！”奈顿惊诧地看着她，“您不这样认为吗？”

    “我也是，可是，他不在现场。”

    奈顿的脸面上浮现出一丝愉快而有活力的笑容。

    “格蕾小姐，您曾对我说过，您特别喜欢读侦探小说。那么您应该懂得，‘不在现场’说明不了任何问题。”

    “难道你认为现实生活中也是这样？”卡泰丽娜微笑着问道。

    “为什么不能呢？无论如何，如果我是那个凶手，我绝不会让赫库勒·波洛抓住把柄。”

    “如果我是凶手我也会这样。”卡泰丽娜欢乐地回答道。

    波洛在网球场上等待着他们的到来。因为天气热，他只穿了一件亚麻布衬衣，胸前还戴着一朵山茶花。

    “小姐，您好！”波洛说道，“看我，多象一位地道的英国人。”

    “可以这样说，带有法国人风度的轻佻的英国人。”

    “您是在拿我开心，”波洛心情很好，低声嘟哝了一声，“不过这没有什么关系。

波洛老伯总是笑到最后的人。谁笑到最后，谁也就笑得最好。”

    “冯·阿尔丁先生在哪？”奈顿问道。

    “他在看台上等我们。说真的，他对我并不十分满意。唉，这些美国人，从不晓得什么是安静，什么是劳累！要是依着他，那就要把尼扎的全部有嫌疑的人都定成罪犯。

但是，那样做是不行的。干这一行，人们需要的不是力量，而是计谋。噢，你们看，凯特林先生来了。”

    德里克突然出现在他们身旁。外表上看来他有些神思恍惚，心神不定。奈顿同他冷淡地寒暄了几句。

    他们走上了看台。奈顿发现主人在看台的另一端向他招手，他立即走过去。

    “我很喜欢这个年青人。”波洛微笑着看秘书，向卡泰丽说道。“您也是这样认为吗，格蕾小姐？”

    “我也是这样认为，他很可爱。另外，他还是您的伟大事业的一名崇拜者，波洛先生。”这位小老头表现出一种做作的谦虚，先是双腿立正，头向胸前一垂。这种仪表上的做作，使人一眼就看出是虚假的。

    “另外，格蕾小姐，”波洛突然转了话题，“我还想同您谈一件小事。您同那位可怜的女士谈话时，曾丢失过一个烟盒吗？”

    波洛从衣袋里掏出一个蓝色的皮烟盒，上面嵌着一个金色的字母“Ｋ”。

    “不是，这不是我的。”她回答道。

    “对不起，请您多加原谅！那么就是说，这个烟盒可能是那可怜的女士自己的。字母“Ｋ”当然也可能是“凯特林”的缩写。我们之所以产生了怀疑，是因为在死者的衣袋里还有一个烟盒。我们感到有些奇怪，她怎么会同时带着两个烟盒。”他又突然转向德里克。

    “会不会是您的烟盒？”

    “不是！如果是我的，却很少有可能在我老婆那里找到。”

    这时，波洛显得尤为天真而且幼稚。“我想，会不会是您在到您夫人的包厢去的时候偶尔失落在那里的。”波洛随便地解释道。

    “我没有到过我妻子的包厢。我已经向警察局方面声明过上千次。”

    “我向您表示深切的歉意。”波洛恭敬地说道，“格蕾小姐，”他又转向卡泰丽娜，“曾经提起过，说她曾看到您进过您夫人的包厢。”

    他显得有些狼狈。卡泰丽娜两眼盯着德里克。德里克的脸色是真的变得那样苍白，还是她的错觉？德里克大笑起来，不过笑声听起来有些不真实。

    “您弄错了，格蕾小姐。”他轻松地说道。“我只是在事后知道，我的包厢就在我夫人包厢的隔壁。您当时可能看到我正走进自己的包厢。”他站起身来，因为这时他看到冯·阿尔丁同奈顿正向他们这边走来。“我现在要离开你们。因为我岳父使我有些受不了。”

    冯·阿尔丁彬彬有礼地向卡泰丽娜打了个招呼。看来这位百万富翁的心情不佳。

    “邀请您来看网球，真是天大的笑话，不是吗，波洛先生？”他喃喃抱怨地说道。

    “事实上却给我带来了莫大的乐趣。”波洛回答说。

    “欧洲遍地都些怪人。在我们那里是这样：先办正事，尔后享乐。”

    波洛并没有因为这番话而觉得受到嘲弄。他仍然温和而诚恳，面带笑容地看着这位百万富翁。

    “每个人都有他独特的行动准则。我一直以为，娱乐和工作相结合，乃是最好的准则。”

    卡泰丽娜和奈顿两人陷入了激情的密谈之中。波洛提高了嗓门说道：

    “我的确不只是为了享受才到这里来的。你们看到对面那个老头了吗？就是那个面色发黄、留着一把可敬的胡须的人？”

    “他怎么样？”

    “他就是帕波波鲁斯，是当今世界上有名的古玩商人。他的兼职：欧洲最大的赃物窝藏者。他的爱好：宝石。在与他进行交易的伙伴中，有被加冕的首脑人物，也有令人恐怖的犯罪分子。我现在问自己、向赫库勒·波洛提出一个问题，我问自己，”他戏剧性地捶着自己的胸膛。“为什么帕波波鲁斯偏偏在此时此刻到尼扎来？”

    几分钟之前，冯·阿尔丁还认为，波洛只不过是一个自大狂，是个自我吹嘘的人。

可是顷刻之间，他对这位小老头又恢复了最初见面时的信任。

    “冯·阿尔丁先生，请您听着，我有一条新闻要告诉您。”

    百万富翁以紧张而好奇的神态注视着波洛的面孔。

    “您是知道的，自从第一次审讯伯爵之后，我们的人一直在暗中监视着他。审讯后的第二天我们在他的玛丽娅别墅进行过一次搜查。”

    “发现了什么东西没有？”冯·阿尔丁问道，“当然啦，什么也不会得到。”

    波洛轻轻地鞠了一躬。

    “您的本能证实了您的看法，冯·阿尔丁先生。我们在那里没有得到任何有价值的东西。当然，这是件很使人懊丧的事。罗歇伯爵不是一天两天的人物啦。”

    “还有什么？”冯·阿尔丁低声问道。

    “当然，在伯爵的住处找不到任何有价值的东西，这完全是合乎情理的。即使他把什么东西藏了起来，那会藏在那里呢？藏在自己的家里，决不会，他会知道，警察决不是白吃干饭的。藏在自己的身上，也不可能；因为他意识到，自己随时都可能被捕。只剩下一种可能性，就是藏在他的汽车里。那一天有人一直跟踪着他，到了蒙特卡洛和门托。他的那辆小汽车有一部动力很大的发动机。他把跟踪的人甩掉了几乎有一刻钟的时间。”

    “那么您认为，在这一刻钟的时间里，他会在马路牙子边上藏了什么东西吗？”百万富翁以极大的兴趣追问道。

    “马路牙子边上？不见得。依我看他十分狡猾。难道您从未想到，想使自己摆脱困境，最好的办法是把东西放在邮局里？”

    “那么怎样？”

    “这就是！”波洛以极其敏捷的速度从衣袋里掏出一个蓝色的包裹。

    “在这十五分钟的时间里，这位能人夺得了优势，并把东西存放到我这里来了。”

    “地址写的是哪里？”冯·阿尔丁马上问道。

    “包裹上的地址写的是巴黎的一家报馆。往这家报馆寄东西，有时也可以给一定的报酬把寄出去的东西再取出来。”

    “包裹里装的是什么？”冯·阿尔丁急切地问道。

    波洛剥开外层，指着里面的小纸盒，环顾了一下四周。

    “这一瞬间是有趣的，”他说道，“先生，请看。”

    他把小盒子的盖子打开，百万富翁惊叫了一声，他的脸色立即变得刷白。

    “上帝啊！”他叫道，“宝石！”

    百万富翁呆呆地坐那里许久，波洛把盒子又装进了衣袋，脸上现出明朗的笑容。

    蓦然间，百万富翁从神志恍惚当中清醒了过来。他向波洛弯下腰，紧紧地握住了这位侦探的手，以致使波洛疼得几乎叫出声来。

    “简直令人难以置信！”冯·阿尔丁说道。“难以置信！您是位魔术师，波洛。”

    “说哪里话，”小老头谦虚地说道。“这是一种思考的方法，一点逻辑学，还有一点预见性，除此之外就没有什么值得夸耀的了。”

    “没有把罗歇伯爵逮捕吗？”百万富翁好奇地问道。

    “没有。”波洛答道。

    冯·阿尔丁脸人现出了惊奇的神色。

    “那么还等什么呢？”

    “伯爵不在现场，这一点是不可动摇的论据。”

    “毫无意义！”

    “当然毫无意义，”波洛说，“但是我们应该拿出事实，来证明它毫无意义。”

    “可是在我们寻找这方面证据的时候，他却从我们手指缝间溜走了。”

    波洛坚定的摇了摇头。

    “不，”他说道。“他不会这样想。伯爵决不会把自己的社会地位当成儿戏。他要在原来的地位仍然肆无忌惮地胡作非为下去。”

    冯·阿尔丁有点不相信。

    “我看不出……”

    波洛摸了一下嘴巴。

    “请等一下，先生。我有一个小小的想法。关于赫库勒·波洛，很多人制造了一些有趣的传说，但是，这些传说都不对。”

    “太好了，”冯·阿尔丁说道，“把这个想法透露出来吧！您那个小小的想法到底是什么呢？”

    波洛沉默了一会儿，然后回答道：”明天上午十一点我到饭店去拜访您。在此之前，请您不要向任何人透露我的新发现。”