"Dash it all, Poirot, you don't think I'm going to leave you all alone when you're up against a thing like the 'Big Four,' do you?"
Poirot nodded gently.
"Just as I thought. You are a staunch friend, Hastings. It is to serve me that you remain on here. And your wife—little Cinderella as you call her, what does she say?"
"I haven't gone into details, of course, but she understands. She'd be the last one to wish me to turn my back on a pal."
"Yes, yes, she, too, is a loyal friend. But it is going to be a long business, perhaps."
I nodded, rather discouraged.
"Six months already," I mused, "and where are we? You know, Poirot, I can't help thinking that we ought to—well, to do something."
"Always so energetic, Hastings! And what precisely would you have me do?"
This was somewhat of a poser, but I was not going to withdraw from my position.
"We ought to take the offensive," I urged. "What have we done all this time?"