There is, indeed, a fine collection there. Are
they often used, may I ask?"

"Well, sir, not very often nowadays, though from time to time we do have
what the young gentlemen call 'a dress-up night.' And very funny it is
sometimes, sir. Mr. Lawrence, he's wonderful. Most comic! I shall never
forget the night he came down as the Char of Persia, I think he called
it--a sort of Eastern King it was. He had the big paper knife in his
hand, and 'Mind, Dorcas,' he says, 'you'll have to be very respectful.
This is my specially sharpened scimitar, and it's off with your head if
I'm at all displeased with you!' Miss Cynthia, she was what they call an
Apache, or some such name--a Frenchified sort of cut-throat, I take it
to be. A real sight she looked. You'd never have believed a pretty young
lady like that could have made herself into such a ruffian. Nobody would
have known her."

"These evenings must have been great fun," said Poirot genially. "I
suppose Mr. Lawrence wore that fine black beard in the chest upstairs,
when he was Shah of Persia?"

"He did have a beard, sir," replied Dorcas, smiling. "And well I know
it, for he borrowed two skeins of my black wool to make it with! And I'm
sure it looked wonderfully natural at a distance. I didn't know as
there was a beard up there at all. It must have been got quite lately, I
think. There was a red wig, I know, but nothing else in the way of hair.
Burnt corks they use mostly--though 'tis messy getting it off again.
Miss Cynthia was a nigger once, and, oh, the trouble she had."

"So Dorcas knows nothing about that black beard," said Poirot
thoughtfully, as we walked out into the hall again.

"Do you think it is _the_ one?" I whispered eagerly.

Poirot nodded.

"I do. You notice it had been trimmed?"

"No."

"Yes. It was cut exactly the shape of Mr. Inglethorp's, and I found one
or two snipped hairs. Hastings, this affair is very deep."

"Who put it in the chest, I wonder?"

"Some one with a good deal of intelligence," remarked Poirot dryly. "You
realize that he chose the one place in the house to hide it where its
presence would not be remarked? Yes, he is intelligent. But we must be
more intelligent. We must be so intelligent that he does not suspect us
of being intelligent at all."

I acquiesced.

"There, mon ami, you will be of great assistance to me."

I was pleased with the compliment. There had been times when I hardly
thought that Poirot appreciated me at m