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.”
“First, 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.”
“My God,” burst out Sir Charles. “It’s a nightmare—the whole thing is utterly incomprehensible.”
“No, no. It is sane and logical, on the contrary.”
Sir Charles stared at him.
“You say that?”
“Certainly. You see, I have the orderly mind.”
“I don’t understand you.”
Mr. Satterthwaite, too, looked curiously at the little detective.
“What kind of a mind have I?” demanded Sir Charles, slightly hurt.
“You have the actor’s mind, Sir Charles, creative, original, seeing always dramatic values. Mr. Satterthwaite here, he has the playgoer’s mind, he observes the characters, he has the sense of atmosphere. But me, I have the prosaic mind. I see only the facts without any dramatic trappings or footlights.”
“Then we’re to leave you to it?”
“That is my idea. For twenty-four hours.”
“Good luck to you, then. Goodnight.”