VII. Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan

           “Poirot,”Isaid,“achangeofairwoulddoyougood.”

           “Youthinkso,monami?”

           “Iamsureofit.”

           “Eh—eh?”saidmyfriend,smiling.“Itisallarranged,then?”

           “Youwillcome?”

           “Wheredoyouproposetotakeme?”

           “Brighton.Asamatteroffact,afriendofmineintheCityputmeontoaverygoodthing,and—well,Ihavemoneytoburn,asthesayinggoes.Ithinkaweek-endattheGrandMetropolitanwoulddousallthegoodintheworld.”

           “Thankyou,Iacceptmostgratefully.Youhavethegoodhearttothinkofanoldman.Andthegoodheart,itisintheendworthallthelittlegreycells.Yes,yes,Iwhospeaktoyouamindangerofforgettingthatsometimes.”

           Ididnotquiterelishtheimplication.IfancythatPoirotissometimesalittleinclinedtounderestimatemymentalcapacities.ButhispleasurewassoevidentthatIputmyslightannoyanceaside.

           “Then,that’sallright,”Isaidhastily.

           SaturdayeveningsawusdiningattheGrandMetropolitaninthemidstofagaythrong.AlltheworldandhiswifeseemedtobeatBrighton.Thedressesweremarvellous,andthejewels—wornsometimeswithmoreloveofdisplaythangoodtaste—weresomethingmagnificent.

           “Hein,itisasightthis!”murmuredPoirot.“ThisisthehomeoftheProfiteer,isitnotso,Hastings?”

           “Supposedtobe,”Ireplied.“Butwe’llhopetheyaren’talltarredwiththeProfiteeringbrush.”

           Poirotgazedroundhimplacidly.

           “ThesightofsomanyjewelsmakesmewishIhadturnedmybrainstocrime,insteadoftoitsdetection.