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 “Quite right,” I said, laughing.

Poirot turned back towards the body.

“No other little detail you can tell me about—him?" he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Not even—that he was left-handed?”

“You're a wizard, Moosior Poirot. How did you know that? He was left-handed. Not that it’s anything to do with the case.”

“Nothing whatever,” agreed Poirot hastily, seeing that Japp was slightly ruffled. “My little joke—that was all. I like to play you the trick, see you.”

We went out upon an amicable understanding.

The following morning saw us wending our way to Dr. Savaronoff’s flat in Westminster.

“Sonia Daviloff,” I mused. “It’s a pretty name.”

Poirot stopped, and threw me a look of despair.

“Always looking for romance! You are incorrigible. It would serve you right if Sonia Daviloff turned out to be our friend and enemy the Countess Vera Rossakoff.”

At the mention of the countess, my face clouded over.

“Surely, Poirot, you don’t suspect”

“But, no, no. It was a joke! I have not the