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business - and there would have been another regrettable accident - death of a famous banker - unhappy young dentist in court in such a state of dither and misery that he would have been let down lightly. He'd have given up dentistry afterwards - and settled down somewhere on a nice income of several thousands a year.”
    Mr. Barnes looked across at Poirot.
    “Don't think I'm romancing,” he said. “These things happen.”
    “Yes, yes, I know they happen.”
    Mr. Barnes went on, tapping a book with a lurid jacket that lay on a table close at hand:
    “I read a lot of these spy yarns. Fantastic, some of them. But curiously enough they're not any more fantastic than the real thing. There are beautiful adventuresses, and dark sinister men with foreign accents, and gangs and international associations and supercrooks! I'd blush to see some of the things I know set down in print - nobody would believe them for a minute!”
    Poirot said:
    “In your theory, where does Amberiotis come in?”
    “I'm not quite sure. I think he was meant to take the rap. He's played a double game more than once and I daresay he was framed. That's only an idea, mind.”
    Hercule Poirot said quietly:
    “Granting that your ideas are correct - what will happen next?”
    Mr. Barnes rubbed his nose.
    “They'll try to get him again,” he said. “Oh, yes. They'll have another try. Time's short. Blunt has got people looking after him, I daresay. They'll have to be extra careful. It won't be a man hiding in a bush with a pistol. Nothing so crude as that. You tell 'em to look out for the respectable people - the relations, the old servants, the chemist's assistant who makes up a medicine, the wine merchant who sells him his port. Getting Alistair Blunt out of the way is worth a great many millions, and it's wonderful what people will do for - say, a nice little income of four thousand a year!”
    “As much as that?”
    “Possibly more... ”
    Poirot was silent a moment, then he said:
    “I have had Reilly in mind from the first.”
    “Irish? I.R.A.?”
    “Not that so much but there was a mark, you see, on the carpet, as though the body had been dragged along it. But if Morley was shot by a patient he would be shot in the surgery and there would be no need to move the body. That is why, from the first, I suspected that he had been shot, not in the surgery, but in his office - next door. That would mean that it was not a patient who shot him, but some member of his own household.”
    “Neat,” said Mr. Barnes appreciatively.
    Hercule Poirot got up and held out a hand.
    “Thank you,” he said. “You have helped me a great deal.”

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe
    IV
    On his way home, Poirot called in at the Glengowrie Court Hotel.
    As a result of that visit he rang up Japp very early the following morning.
    “Bonjour, mon ami. The inquest is today, is it not?”
    “It is. Are you going to attend?”
    “I do not think so.”
    “It won't really be worth your while, I expect.”
    “Are you calling Miss Sainsbury Seale as a witness?”
    “The lovely Mabelle - why can't she just spell it plain Mabel? These women get my goat! No, I'm not calling her. There's no need.”
    “You have heard nothing from her?”
    “No, why should I?”
    Hercule Poirot said:
    “I wondered, that was all. Perhaps it may interest you to learn that Miss Sainsbury Seale walked out o the Glengowrie Court Hotel just before dinner the night before last - and did not come back.”
    “What? She's hooked it?”
    “That is a possible explanation.”
    “But why should she? She's quite all right, know. Perfectly genuine and aboveboard. I cabled to Calcutta about her - that was before I knew the reason for Amberiotis' death, otherwise I shouldn't have bothered - and I got the reply last night. Every thing O.K. She's been known there for years, and her whole account of herself is true - except that she slurred over her marriage a bit. Married a Hindu student and then found he'd got a