“You want me for something, monsieur?”
“Yes. You have been gardener here a long time, haven’t you?”
“Twenty-four years, monsieur.”
“And your name is—?”
“Auguste, monsieur.”
“I was admiring these magnificent geraniums. They are truly superb. They have been planted long?”
“Some time, monsieur. But of course, to keep the beds looking smart, one must keep bedding out a few new plants, and remove those that are over, besides keeping the old blooms well picked off.”
“You put in some new plants yesterday, didn’t you? Those in the middle there, and in the other bed also?”
“Monsieur has a sharp eye. It takes always a day or so for them to ‘pick up.’ Yes, I put ten new plants in each bed last night. As Monsieur doubtless knows, one should not put in plants when the sun is hot.”
Auguste was charmed with Poirot’s interest, and was quite inclined to be garrulous.