I felt rather uneasy. Caroline is bad enough as it is. What will she be like with her detective instincts encouraged?
“Are you going round the neighborhood looking for Ralph Paton’s mysterious girl?” I inquired.
“I might do that on my own account,” said Caroline. “No, this is a special thing M. Poirot wants me to find out for him.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“He wants to know whether Ralph Paton’s boots were black or brown,” said Caroline with tremendous solemnity.
I stared at her. I see now that I was unbelievably stupid about these boots. I failed altogether to grasp the point.
“They were brown shoes,” I said. “I saw them.”
“Not shoes, James, boots. M. Poirot wants to know whether a pair of boots Ralph had with him at the hotel were brown or black. A lot hangs on it.”
Call me dense if you like. I didn’t see.
“And how are you going to find out?” I asked.