“I suppose, Poirot,” I said rather diffidently, “I mustn’t ask what your plans are? I’ve forfeited the right.”
“But not at all. There is no secret about them. We return to France without delay.”
“We?”
“Precisely—‘we!’ You know very well that you cannot afford to let Papa Poirot out of your sight. Eh, is it not so, my friend? But remain in England by all means if you wish—”
I shook my head. He had hit the nail on the head. I could not afford to let him out of my sight. Although I could not expect his confidence after what had happened, I could still check his actions. The only danger to Bella lay with him. Giraud and the French police were indifferent to her existence. At all costs I must keep near Poirot.
Poirot observed me attentively as these reflections passed through my mind, and gave a nod of satisfaction.
“I am right, am I not? And as you are quite capable of trying to follow me, disguised with some absurdity such as a false beard—which every one would perceive, bien entendu—I much prefer that we should voyage together. It would annoy me greatly that any one should mock themselves at you.”
“Very well, then. But it’s only fair to warn you—”
“I know—I know all. You are my enemy! Be my enemy then. It does not worry me at all.”
“So long as it’s all fair and above-board, I don’t mind.”