“Look here, my dear fellow, hadn’t we better get back to London?”
“You think so, Hastings? Why?”
“Well”—I coughed delicately—“things haven’t gone very well, have
they? I mean, you tell Lord Yardly to place himself in your hands
and all will be well—and then the diamond vanishes from under your
very nose!”
“True,” said Poirot, rather crestfallen. “It was not one of my most
striking triumphs.”
This way of describing events almost caused me to smile, but I
stuck to my guns.
“So, having—pardon the expression—rather made a mess of things,
don’t you think it would be more graceful to leave immediately?”
“And the dinner, the without doubt excellent dinner, that the
_chef_ of Lord Yardly has prepared?”
“Oh, what’s dinner!” I said impatiently.
Poirot held up his hands in horror.
“_Mon Dieu!_ It is that in this country you treat the affairs
gastronomic with a criminal indifference.”
“There’s another reason why we should get back to London as soon
as possible,” I continued.
“What is that, my friend?”
“The other diamond,” I said, lowering my voice. “Miss Marvell’s.”
“_Eh bien_, what of it?”
“Don’t you see?” His unusual obtuseness annoyed me. What had
happened to his usually keen wits? “They’ve got one, now they’ll
go for the other.”
“_Tiens!_” cried Poirot, stepping back a pace and regarding me with
admiration. “But your brain marches to a marvel, my friend! Figure
to yourself that for the moment I had not thought of that! But
there is plenty of time. The full of the moon, it is not until
Friday.”
I shook my head dubiously. The full of the moon theory left me
entirely cold. I had my way with Poirot, however, and we departed
immediately, leaving behind us a note of explanation and apology
for Lord Yardly.
My idea was to go at once to the _Magnificent_, and relate to Miss
Marvell what had occurred, but Poirot vetoed the plan, and insisted
that the morning would be time enough. I gave in rather grudgingly.
In the morning Poirot seemed strangely disinclined to stir out. I
began to suspect that, having made a mistake to start with, he was
singularly loath to proceed with the case. In answer to my
persuasions, he pointed out, with admirable common sense, that as
the details of the affair at Yardly Chase were already in the
morning papers the Rolfs would know quite as much as we could tell
them. I gave way unwillingly.
Events proved my forebodings to be justified. About two o’clock,
the telephone rang. Poirot answered it. He listened for some
moments, then with a brief “_Bien, j’y serai_” he rang off, and
turned to me.
“What do you think, _mon ami_?” He looked half ashamed, half
excited. “The diamond of Miss Marvell, it has been stolen.”
“What?” I cried, springing up. “And what about the ‘full of the
moon’ now?” Poirot hung his head. “When did this happen?”
“This morning, I understand.”
I shook my head sadly. “If only you had listened to me. You see I
was right.”
“It appears so, _mon ami_,” said Poirot cautiously. “Appearances
are deceptive, they say, but it certainly appears so.”
As we hurried in a taxi to the _Magnificent_, I puzzled out the
true inwardness of the scheme.
“That ‘full of the moon’ idea was clever. The whole point of it
was to get us to concentrate on the Friday, and so be off our guard
beforehand. It is a pity you did not realize that.”
“_Ma foi!_” said Poirot airily, his nonchalance quite restored
after its brief eclipse. “One cannot think of everything!”