Poirot looked at the ceiling.
"There is an off-chance," he said quietly, "that it might be the Comte de la Roche after all. At least I have succeeded in upsetting his alibi."
"How did you manage that?"
Poirot shrugged his shoulders modestly.
"I have my own methods. The exercise of a little tact, a little cleverness—and the thing is done."
"But the rubies," said Van Aldin, "these rubies that the Count had in his possession were false."
"And clearly he would not have committed the crime except for the rubies. But you are overlooking one point, Monsieur Van Aldin. Where the rubies were concerned, some one might have been before him."
"But this is an entirely new theory," cried Knighton.
"Do you really believe all this rigmarole, Monsieur Poirot?" demanded the millionaire.
"The thing is not proved," said Poirot quietly. "It is as yet only a theory, but I tell you this, Monsieur Van Aldin, the facts are worth investigating. You must come out with me to the south of France and go into the case on the spot."