“As Knighton joined him, the number thirty-three turned up, and Poirot’s stake was swept away. “Bad luck!” said Knighton; “are you going to stake again?” Poirot shook his head. “Not at present.” “Do you feel the fascination of gambling?” asked Knighton curiously. “Not at roulette.” Knighton shot a swift glance at him. His own face became troubled. He spoke haltingly, with a touch of deference. “I wonder, are you busy, M. Poirot? There is something I would like to ask ...you about.” “I am at your disposal. Shall we go outside? It is pleasant in the sunshine.” They strolled out together, and Knighton drew a deep breath. “I love the Riviera,” he said. “I came here first twelve years ago, during the War, when I was sent to Lady Tamplin’s Hospital.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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