"You believe he—murdered her," said Van Aldin hoarsely.
Poirot raised a hand quickly.
"No, no, I did not say that—but it is a possibility—a very strong possibility. He was in a tight corner, a very tight corner, threatened with ruin. This was the one way out."
"But why take the jewels?"
"To make the crime appear an ordinary one committed by train robbers. Otherwise suspicion might have fallen on him straight away."
"If that is so, what has he done with the rubies?"
"That remains to be seen. There are several possibilities. There is a man in Nice who may be able to help, the man I pointed out at the tennis,"
He rose to his feet and Van Aldin rose also and laid his hand on the little man's shoulder. His voice when he spoke was harsh with emotion.
"Find Ruth's murderer for me," he said, "that is all I ask."
Poirot drew himself up.
"Leave it in the hands of Hercule Poirot," he said superbly; "have no fears. I will discover the truth."
He brushed a speck of fluff from his hat, smiled reassuringly at the millionaire, and left the room. Nevertheless, as he went down the stairs some of the confidence faded from his face.
"It is all very well," he murmured to himself, "but there are difficulties. Yes, there are great difficulties."
As he was passing out of the hotel he came to a sudden halt. A car had drawn up in front of the door. In it
