“Because she is a woman, mon ami. She once loved this man. Therefore she would suffer her loss in silence. And the Count, who is an extremely good psychologist where women are concerned,—hence his successes,—would know that perfectly well! On the other hand, if Rupert Carrington killed her, why take the jewels, which would incriminate him fatally?”

“As a blind.”

“Perhaps you are right, my friend. Ah, here is Japp! I recognize his knock.”

The Inspector was beaming good-humoredly.

“Morning, Poirot. Only just got back. I’ve done some good work! And you?”

“Me, I have arranged my ideas,” replied Poirot placidly.

Japp laughed heartily.

“Old chap’s getting on in years,” he observed beneath his breath to me. “That wont do for us young folk,” he said aloud.

“Quel dommage?” Poirot inquired.

“Well, do you want to hear what I’ve done?”

“You permit me to make a guess? You have found the knife with which the crime was committed by the side of the line between Weston and Taunton, and you have interviewed the paper-boy who spoke to Mrs. Carrington at Weston!”

Japp’s jaw fell. “How on earth did you know? Don’t tell me it was those almighty ‘little gray cells’ of yours!”

“I am glad you admit for once that they are all mighty! Tell me, did she give the paper-boy a shilling for himself?”

“No, it was half a crown!” Japp recovered his temper and grinned. “Pretty extravagant, these rich Americans!”

“And in consequence the boy did not forget her?”

“Not he. Half-crowns don’t come his way every day. She hailed him and bought two magazines. One had a picture of a girl in blue on the cover. ‘That’ll match me,’ she said. Oh! he remembered her perfectly. Well, that was enough for me. By the doctor’s evidence, the crime must have been committed before Taunton. I guessed they’d throw the knife away at once, and I walked down the line looking for it; and sure enough, there it was. I made inquiries at 

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