I thought a good many things of it, but I was careful not to say them to Caroline.
“Why did he come?” I asked.
“To see me, of course. He said that knowing my brother so well, he hoped he might be permitted to make the acquaintance of his charming sister—your charming sister, I’ve got mixed up, but you know what I mean.”
“What did he talk about?” I asked.
“He told me a lot about himself and his cases. You know that Prince Paul of Mauretania—the one who’s just married a dancer?”
“Yes?”
“I saw a most intriguing paragraph about her in Society Snippets the other day, hinting that she was really a Russian Grand Duchess—one of the Czar’s daughters who managed to escape from the Bolsheviks. Well, it seems that M. Poirot solved a baffling murder mystery that threatened to involve them both. Prince Paul was beside himself with gratitude.”
“Did he give him an emerald tie pin the size of a plover’s egg?” I inquired sarcastically.
“He didn’t mention it. Why?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I thought it was always done. It is in detective fiction anyway. The super detective always has his rooms littered with rubies and pearls and emeralds from grateful Royal clients.”