‘Dear Lydia, how patient you have been all these years. You have been very good to me.’
Lydia said:
‘But, you see, Alfred, I love you…’
VI
Colonel Johnson said:
‘God bless my soul!’ Then he said:
‘Upon my word!’ And finally, once more: ‘God bless my soul!
He leaned back in his chair and stared at Poirot. He said plaintively:
‘My best man! What’s the police coming to?’
Poirot said:
‘Even policemen have private lives! Sugden was a very proud man.’
Colonel Johnson shook his head.
To relieve his feelings he kicked at the logs in the grate. He said jerkily:
‘I always say—nothing like a wood fire.’
Hercule Poirot, conscious of the draughts round his neck, thought to himself:
‘Pour moi, every time the central heating…’