“Thanks,” he said. “That ought to help us considerably. Puts it within very narrow limits—less than an hour all told.”
He turned to Miss Brewster.
“Now then, I think it’s all clear so far. You’re Miss Emily Brewster and this is Mr. Patrick Redfern, both staying at the Jolly Roger Hotel. You identify this lady as a fellow guest of yours at the hotel—the wife of a Captain Marshall?”
Emily Brewster nodded.
“Then, I think,” said Inspector Colgate, “that we’ll adjourn to the hotel.”
He beckoned to a constable.
“Hawkes, you stay here and don’t allow anyone on to this cove. I’ll be sending Phillips along later.”
II
“Upon my soul!” said Colonel Weston. “This is a surprise finding you here!”
Hercule Poirot replied to the Chief Constable’s greeting in a suitable manner. He murmured:
“Ah, yes, many years have passed since that affair at St. Loo.”
“I haven’t forgotten it, though,” said Weston. “Biggest surprise of my life. The thing I’ve never got over, though, is the way you got round me about that funeral business. Absolutely unorthodox, the whole thing. Fantastic!”
“Tout de même, mon Colonel,” said Poirot. “It produced the goods, did it not?”
“Er—well, possibly. I dare say we should have got there by more orthodox methods.”
“It is possible,” agreed Poirot diplomatically.
“And here you are in the thick of another murder,” said the Chief Constable. “Any ideas about this one?”
Poirot said slowly:
“Nothing definite—but it is interesting.”
“Going to give us a hand?”
“You would permit it, yes?”
“My dear fellow, delighted to have you. Don’t know enough yet to decide whether it’s a case for Scotland Yard or not. Offhand it looks as though our murderer must be pretty well within a limited radius. On the other hand, all these people are strangers down here. To find out about them and their motives you’ve got to go to London.”
Poirot said:
“Yes, that is true.”
“First of all,” said Weston, “we’ve got to find out who last saw the dead woman alive. Chambermaid took her her breakfast at nine. Girl in the bureau downstairs saw her pass through the lounge and go out about ten.”
“My friend,” said Poirot, “I suspect that I am the man you want.”
“You saw her this morning? What time?”
“At five minutes past ten. I assisted her to launch her float from the bathing beach.”
“And she went off on it?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”