The lawyer answered the summons. Poirot took my arm and drew me right into the window.
“Regard the irises,” he remarked in rather a loud voice. “Magnificent, are they not? A straight and pleasing effect.”
At the same time I felt the pressure of his hand on my arm, and he added in a low tone:—
“Do you really wish to aid me? To take part in this investigation?”
“Yes, indeed,” I said eagerly. “There’s nothing I should like better. You don’t know what a dull old fogey’s life I lead. Never anything out of the ordinary.”
“Good, we will be colleagues then. In a minute or two I fancy Major Blunt will join us. He is not happy with the good mamma. Now there are some things I want to know—but I do not wish to seem to want to know them. You comprehend? So it will be your part to ask the questions.”
“What questions do you want me to ask?” I asked apprehensively.
“I want you to introduce the name of Mrs. Ferrars.”
“Yes?”
“Speak of her in a natural fashion. Ask him if he was down here when her husband died. You understand the kind of thing I mean. And while he replies, watch his face without seeming to watch it. C’est compris?”