“At last!” I said. “Here is something distinctly out of the ordinary.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Poirot meditatively.
“You will go of course,” I continued.
Poirot nodded. He was thinking deeply. Finally he seemed to make up his
mind, and glanced up at the clock. His face was very grave.
“See you, my friend, there is no time to lose. The Continental express
leaves Victoria at 11 o’clock. Do not agitate yourself. There is plenty
of time. We can allow ten minutes for discussion. You accompany me,
_n’est-ce pas?___”
“Well—”
“You told me yourself that your employer needed you not for the next
few weeks.”
“Oh, that’s all right. But this Mr. Renauld hints strongly that his
business is private.”
“Ta-ta-ta. I will manage M. Renauld. By the way, I seem to know the
name?”
“There’s a well-known South American millionaire fellow. His name’s
Renauld. I don’t know whether it could be the same.”
“But without doubt. That explains the mention of Santiago. Santiago is
in Chile, and Chile it is in South America! Ah, but we progress
finely.”
“Dear me, Poirot,” I said, my excitement rising, “I smell some goodly
shekels in this. If we succeed, we shall make our fortunes!”
“Do not be too sure of that, my friend. A rich man and his money are
not so easily parted. Me, I have seen a well-known millionaire turn out
a tramful of people to seek for a dropped halfpenny.”