"This was sent to my uncle a few weeks ago as a present, with the request that he would use it in the next match he played. It was in the middle of the room—so."
Poirot examined the table with what seemed to me quite unnecessary attention. He was not conducting the inquiry at all as I would have done. Many of his questions seemed to me pointless, and upon really vital matters he seemed to have no questions to ask. I concluded that the unexpected mention of the Big Four had thrown him completely off his balance.
After a minute examination of the table and the exact position it had occupied, he asked to see the chessmen. Sonia Daviloff brought them to him in a box. He examined one or two of them in a perfunctory manner.
"An exquisite set," he murmured absent-mindedly.
Still not a question as to what refreshments there had been, or what people had been present.
I cleared my throat significantly.
"Don't you think, Poirot, that—"
He interrupted me peremptorily.
"Do not think, my friend. Leave all to me. Mademoiselle, is it quite impossible that I should see your uncle?"
A faint smile showed itself on her face.