From the quietness with which Poirot received my remark, I could see that the idea had already occurred to him.
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Shielding some one—or screening some one. One of the two.”
I saw very little difference between the two words, but I developed my theme with a good deal of earnestness. Poirot maintained a strictly non-committal attitude, repeating:
“It may be—yes, it may be. But as yet I do not know! There is something very deep underneath all this. You will see. Something very deep.”
Then, as we entered our hotel, he enjoined silence on me with a gesture.
13
The Girl with the Anxious Eyes
We lunched with an excellent appetite. I understood well enough that Poirot did not wish to discuss the tragedy where we could so easily be overheard. But, as is usual when one topic fills the mind to the exclusion of everything else, no other subject of interest seemed to present itself. For a while we ate in silence, and then Poirot observed maliciously:
“Eh bien! And your indiscretions! You recount them not?”
I felt myself blushing.
“Oh, you mean this morning?” I endeavoured to adopt a tone of absolute nonchalance.