Van Aldin sighed.
"I would have preferred to take the law into my own hands."
"I don't think that would have been a very wise proceeding, sir."
"All the same—are you sure the fellow wants to see me?"
"Yes, Mr. Van Aldin. He is very urgent about it."
"Then I suppose he will have to. He can come along this morning if he likes."
It was a very fresh and debonair Poirot who was ushered in. He did not seem to see any lack of cordiality in the millionaire's manner, and chatted pleasantly about various trifles. He was in London, he explained, to see his doctor. He mentioned the name of an eminent surgeon.
"No, no, pas la guerre—a memory of my days in the police force, a bullet of a rascally Apache."
He touched his left shoulder and winced realistically.
"I always consider you a lucky man, Monsieur Van Aldin; you are not like our popular idea of American millionaires, martyrs to the dyspepsia."