"My dear sir———" The door was opened again, the man, clad in a dressing-gown and slippers, stepped forward to pacify Poirot with an uneasy glance round.
"I will call the police."
Poirot prepared to descend the steps.
"No, don't do that for Heaven's sake!" The man dashed after him.
With a neat push Poirot sent him staggering down the steps. In another minute all three of us were inside the door and it was pushed to and bolted.
"Quick—in here." Poirot led the way into the nearest room switching on the light as he did so. "And you—behind the curtain."
"Si, signor," said the Italian and slid rapidly behind the full folds of rose-coloured velvet which draped the embrasure of the window.
Not a minute too soon. Just as he disappeared from view a woman rushed into the room. She was tall with reddish hair and held a scarlet kimono round her slender form.
"Where is my husband?" she cried, with a quick frightened glance. "Who are you?"
Poirot stepped forward with a bow.
"It is to be hoped your husband will not
