on Knighton. "M. Poirot is going to be there also. What an extraordinary little man he is. Do you know him well, Miss Grey?"
Katherine shook her head. "I met him on the train on the way here. I was reading a detective novel, and I happened to say something about such things not happening in real life. Of course, I had no idea of who he was."
"He is a very remarkable person," said Knighton slowly, "and has done some very remarkable things. He has a kind of genius for going to the root of the matter, and right up to the end no one has any idea of what he is really thinking. I remember I was staying at a house in Yorkshire, and Lady Clanravon's jewels were stolen. It seemed at first to be a simple robbery, but it completely baffled the local police. I wanted them to call in Hercule Poirot, and said he was the only man who could help them, but they pinned their faith to Scotland Yard."
"And what happened?" said Katherine curiously.
"The jewels were never recovered," said Knighton drily.
"You really do believe in him?"
"I do indeed. The Comte de la Roche is a pretty wily customer. He has wriggled out of most things. But I think he has met his match in Hercule Poirot."
"The Comte de la Roche," said Katherine thoughtfully; "so you really think he did it?"
"Of course." Knighton looked at her in astonishment.
"Don't you?"
"Oh yes," said Katherine hastily; "that is, I mean, if it was not just an ordinary train robbery."
