The Count reflected for a minute.
"I dined in Monte Carlo at the Café de Paris. Afterwards I went to the Le Sporting. I won a few thousands francs," he shrugged his shoulders. "I returned home at perhaps one o'clock."
"Pardon me, Monsieur, but how did you return home?"
"In my own two-seater car."
"No one was with you?"
"No one."
"You could produce witnesses in support of this statement?"
"Doubtless many of my friends saw me there that evening. I dined alone."
"Your servant admitted you on your return to your villa?"
"I let myself in with my own latch-key."
"Ah!" murmured the Magistrate.
Again he struck the bell on the table with his hand.
The door opened, and a messenger appeared.
"Bring in the maid. Mason," said M. Carrège.
"Very good, Monsieur le Juge."
Ada Mason was brought in.
"Will you be so good, Mademoiselle, as to look at this gentleman. To the best of your ability was it he who entered your mistress's compartment in Paris?"
The woman looked long and searchingly at the Count, who was, Poirot fancied, rather uneasy under this scrutiny.
"I could not say, sir, I am sure," said Mason at last. "It might be and again it might not. Seeing as
