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managed it! At once! Like that! Why, you're a genius. How in mercy's name did you set about it?”
    “Madame, I cannot take compliments where they are not earned. Six months ago your husband wrote to you withdrawing his opposition.”
    “What's that you say? Wrote to me? Where?”
    “It was when you were at Hollywood, I understand.”
    “I never got it. Must have gone astray, I suppose. And to think I've been thinking and planning and fretting and going nearly crazy all these months.”
    “Lord Edgware seemed to be under the impression that you wished to marry an actor.”
    “Naturally. That's what I told him.” She gave a pleased child's smile. Suddenly it changed to a look of alarm. “Why, M. Poirot, you didn't go and tell him about me and the duke?”
    “No, no, reassure yourself. I am discreet. That would not do at all.”
    “Well, you see, he's got a queer mean nature. Marrying Merton, he'd feel, was perhaps a kind of leg up for me so then naturally he'd queer the pitch. But a film actor's different. Though, all the same, I'm surprised. Yes, I am. Aren't you surprised, Ellis?”
    I had noticed that the maid had come to and fro from the bedroom tidying away various outdoor garments which were lying flung over the backs of chairs. It had been my opinion that she had been listening to the conversation. Now it seemed that she was completely in Jane's confidence.
    “Yes, indeed, m'lady. His lordship must have changed a good deal since we knew him,” said the maid spitefully.
    “Yes, he must.”
    “You cannot understand his attitude. It puzzles you?” suggested Poirot.
    “Oh, it does. But anyway, we needn't worry about that. What does it matter what made him change his mind so long as he has changed it?”
    “It may not interest you, but it interests me, Madame.”
    Jane paid no attention to him.
    “The thing is that I'm free at last.”
    “Not yet, Madame.”
    She looked at him impatiently.
    “Well, going to be free. It's the same thing.”
    Poirot looked as though he did not think it was.
    “The duke is in Paris,” said Jane. “I must cable him right away. My - won't his old mother be wild!”
    Poirot rose.
    “I am glad, Madame, that all is turning out as you wish.”
    “Good-bye, M. Poirot, and thanks awfully.”
    “I did nothing.”
    “You brought me the good news, anyway, M. Poirot, and I'm ever so grateful. I really am.”
    “And that is that,” said Poirot to me, as we left the suite. “The single idea - herself! She has no speculation, no curiosity as to why that letter never reached her. You observe, Hastings, she is shrewd beyond belief in the business sense, but she has absolutely no intellect. Well, well, the good God cannot give everything.”
    “Except to Hercule Poirot,” I said slyly.
    “You mock yourself at me, my friend,” he replied serenely. “But come, let us walk along the Embankment. I wish to arrange my ideas with order and method.”
    I maintained a discreet silence until such time as the oracle should speak.
    “That letter,” he resumed when we were pacing along by the river. “It intrigues me. There are four solutions of that problem, my friend.”
    “Four?”
    "Yes. First, it was lost in the post. That does happen, you know. But not very often. No, not very often. Incorrectly addressed, it would have been returned to Lord Edgware long before this. No, I am inclined to rule out that solution - though, of course, it may be the true one.
    "Solution two, our beautiful lady is lying when she says she never received it. That, of course, is quite possible. That charming lady is capable of telling any lie to her advantage with the most childlike candour. But I cannot see, Hastings, how it could be to her advantage. If she knows that he will divorce her, why send me to ask him to do so? It does not make sense.
    "Solution three. Lord Edgware is lying. And if anyone is lying it seems more likely that it is he than his wife. But I do not see much point in such a lie. Why