Page:The Big Four (Christie).pdf/140

 “Hush, here they come.”

Gerald Paynter was an amiable, rather weak-looking young man. He had a soft brown beard, and a peculiar flowing tie. He answered Poirot's questions readily enough.

“I dined out with some neighbours of ours, the Wycherlys,” he explained. “What time did I get home? Oh, about eleven. I had a latch-key, you know. All the servants had gone to bed, and I naturally thought my uncle had done the same. As a matter of fact, I did think I caught sight of that soft-footed Chinese beggar Ah Ling just whisking round the corner of the hall, but I fancy I was mistaken.”

“When did you last see your uncle, Mr. Paynter? I mean before you came to live with him.”

“Oh! not since I was a kid of ten. He and his brother (my father) quarrelled, you know.”

“But he found you again with very little trouble, did he not? In spite of all the years that had passed?”

“Yes, it was quite a bit of luck my seeing the lawyer’s advertisement.”

Poirot asked no more questions.

Our next move was to visit Dr. Quentin. His story was substantially the same as he had told at the inquest, and he had little to add to it.