"Exactly," said M. Carrège triumphantly; "and what should they have to be careful about?"
"An excess of caution is suspicious, eh?" said Poirot.
“Précisément."
"We might, I think," murmured Poirot, "ask M. Kettering one or two questions."
The Magistrate gave instructions. A moment or two later, Derek Kettering, debonair as ever, entered the room.
"Good morning. Monsieur," said the Judge politely.
"Good morning," said Derek Kettering curtly. "You sent for me. Has anything fresh turned up?"
"Pray sit down. Monsieur."
Derek took a seat and flung his hat and stick on the table.
"Well?" he asked impatiently.
"We have, so far, no fresh data," said M. Carrège cautiously.
"That's very interesting," said Derek drily. "Did you send for me here in order to tell me that?"
"We naturally thought. Monsieur, that you would like to be informed of the progress of the case," said the Magistrate severely.
"Even if the progress was non-existent."
"We also wished to ask you a few questions."
"Ask away."
"You are quite sure that you neither saw nor spoke with your wife on the train?"
"I've answered that already. I did not."
"You had, no doubt, your reasons."
Derek stared at him suspiciously.
“I—did—not—know—she—was—on—the—train,"
