haven't gone very well, have they? I mean, you tell Lord Yardly to place himself in your hands and all will be well—and then the diamond vanishes from under your very nose!"
"True," said Poirot, rather crestfallen. "It was not one of my most striking triumphs."
This way of describing events almost caused me to smile, but I stuck to my guns.
"So, having—pardon the expression—rather made a mess of things, don't you think it would be more graceful to leave immediately?"
"And the dinner, the without doubt excellent dinner, that the chef of Lord Yardly has prepared?"
"Oh, what's dinner!" I said impatiently.
Poirot held up his hands in horror.
"Mon Dieu! It is that in this country you treat the affairs gastronomic with a criminal indifference."
"There's another reason why we should get back to London as soon as possible," I continued.
"What is that, my friend?"
"The other diamond," I said, lowering my voice. "Miss Marvell's."
"Eh bien, what of it?"
"Don't you see?" His unusual obtuseness
