thing. If you will reflect a little minute you will realize the truth of that clearly for yourself."
Van Aldin was silent for a moment or two, then almost reluctantly he nodded his head in agreement.
"You are quite right, M. Poirot," he said. "Painful as it is, I have no right to keep anything back."
The Commissary gave a sigh of relief, and the Examining Magistrate leaned back in his chair and adjusted a pince-nez on his long thin nose.
"Perhaps you will tell us in your own words, M. Van Aldin," he said, "all that you know of this gentleman."
"It began eleven or twelve years ago—in Paris. My daughter was a young girl then, full of foolish, romantic notions, like all young girls are. Unknown to me, she made the acquaintance of this Comte de la Roche. You have heard of him, perhaps?"
The Commissary and Poirot nodded in assent.
"He calls himself the Comte de la Roche," continued Van Aldin, "but I doubt if he has any right to the title."
"You would not have found his name in the Almanac de Gotha," agreed the Commissary.
"I discovered as much," said Van Aldin. "The man was a good-looking, plausible scoundrel, with a fatal fascination for women. Ruth was infatuated with him, but I soon put a stop to the whole affair. The man was no better than a common swindler."
"You are quite right," said the Commissary. "The Comte de la Roche is well known to us. If it were possible, we should have laid him by the heels before now, but ma foi! it is not easy; the fellow is cunning, his affairs are always conducted with ladies of high
