“I suppose I might as well be frank. You seem to know a good deal.”
“I have employed my grey cells to some advantage. Come, Signor Ascanio, you visited the dead man on the Tuesday morning—that is so, is it not?”
“Yes; but I never went there on the following evening. There was no need. I will tell you all. Certain information concerning a man of great position in Italy had come into this scoundrel’s possession. He demanded a big sum of money in return for the papers. I came over to England to arrange the matter. I called upon him by appointment that morning. One of the young secretaries of the Embassy was with me. The Count was more reasonable than I had hoped, although even then the sum of money I paid him was a huge one.”
“Pardon, how was it paid?”
“In Italian notes of comparatively small denomination. I paid over the money then and there. He handed me the incriminating papers. I never saw him again.”
“Why did you not say all this when you were arrested?”
“In my delicate position I was forced to deny any association with the man.”
“And how do you account for the events of the evening, then?”
“I can only think that some one must have deliberately impersonated me. I understand that no money was found in the flat.”
Poirot looked at him and shook his head.