The intense interest aroused in the public by what was known at the time as „The Styles Case” has now somewhat subsided. Nevertheless, in view of the world-wide notoriety which attended it, I have been asked, both by my friend Poirot and the family themselves, to write an account of the whole story. This, we trust, will effectually silence the sensatíonal rumours which still persist. I will therefore briefly set down the circumstances which led to my being connected wlth the affair…
“With a long drawn exclamation of ecstasy, Poirot led the way back to the morning-room.
„See you, one should not ask for outside proof–no, reason should be enough. But the flesh is weak, it is consolation to find that one is on the right track. Ah, my friend, I am like a giant refreshed. I run! I leap!”
And, in very truth, run and leap he did, gambolling wildly down the stretch of lawn outside the long window.
„What is your remarkable little friend doing?” asked a voice behind me, and I turned to find Mary Cavendish at my elbow. She smiled, and so did I. „What is it all about?”
„Really, I can’t tell you. He asked Dorcas some question about a bell, and appeared so delighted with her answer that he is capering about as you see!”
„How ridiculous! He’s going out of the gate. Isn’t he coming back to-day?”
„I don’t know. I’ve given up trying to guess what he’ll do next.”
„Is he quite mad, Mr. Hastings?”
„I honestly don’t know. Sometimes, I feel sure he is as mad as a hatter; and then, just as he is at his maddest, I find there is method in his madness.”