“Do you remember the name of the American secretary?”
“Harper, I think, but I cannot be sure. He had not been with Mr. Bleibner very long, I know. He was a very pleasant young fellow.”
“Thank you, Lady Willard.”
“If there is anything else——?”
“For the moment, nothing. Leave it now in my hands, and be assured that I will do all that is humanly possible to protect your son.”
They were not exactly reassuring words, and I observed Lady Willard wince as he uttered them. Yet, at the same time, the fact that he had not pooh-poohed her fears seemed in itself to be a relief to her.
For my part I had never before suspected that Poirot had so deep a vein of superstition in his nature. I tackled him on the subject as we went homewards. His manner was grave and earnest.
“But yes, Hastings. I believe in these things. You must not underrate the force of superstition.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“Toujours pratique, the good Hastings! Eh bien, to begin with we are going to cable to New York for fuller details of young Mr. Bleibner’s death.”