“Who told you that?”
Again a grin showed itself on Inspector Raglan’s face.
“Your sister, Miss Sheppard, she told me all about it.”
Really, Caroline is amazing. She never rests until she knows the last details of everybody’s family secrets. Unfortunately, I have never been able to instill into her the decency of keeping them to herself.
“Jump in, inspector,” I said, opening the door of the car. “We’ll go up to The Larches together, and acquaint our Belgian friend with the latest news.”
“Might as well, I suppose. After all, even if he is a bit balmy, it was a useful tip he gave me about those fingerprints. He’s got a bee in his bonnet about the man Kent, but who knows—there may be something useful behind it.”
Poirot received us with his usual smiling courtesy.
He listened to the information we had brought him, nodding his head now and then.
“Seems quite O.K., doesn’t it?” said the inspector rather gloomily. “A chap can’t be murdering some one in one place when he’s drinking in the bar in another place a mile away.”
“Are you going to release him?”