Mrs. Delafontaine. "My aunt died on Tuesday
evening. It was quite unexpected."
"Most unexpected," said Mr. Delafontaine.
"Great blow." His eyes watched the window
where the foreign girl had disappeared.
"I apologize," said Hercule Poirot. "And I
withdraw." He moved a step toward the door.
"Half a sec," said Mr. Delafontaine. "You--er--had
an appointment with Aunt Amelia, you
say?'"
ยท
'Parfaiternent." .
"Perhaps you will tell us about it," said his
wife. "If there is anything we can do--"
"It was of a private nature," said Poirot. "I am
a detective," he added simply.
Mr. Delafontaine knocked over a little china
figure he was handling. His wife looked puzzled.
"A detective? And you had an appointment
with auntie? But how extraordinary!" She stared
at him. "Can't you tell us a little more, M.
Poirot? It--it seems quite fantastic."
Poirot was silent for a moment. He chose his
words with care.
"It is difficult for me, madame, to know what
to do."
"Look here," said Mr. Delafontaine. "She
didn't mention Russians, did she?"
"Russians?"
HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?