rehead；　and　his　big　hands　clench　themselves　unconsciously。　He　handed　back　the　letter　without　a　word。　M。　Carrege　was　looking　with　close　attention　at　his　desk；　M。　Caux's　eyes　were　fixed　upon　the　ceiling；　and　M。　Hercule　Poirot　was　tenderly　brushing　a　speck　of　dust　from　his　coat　sleeve。　With　the　greatest　tact　they　none　of　them　looked　at　Van　Aldin。

It　was　M。　Carrege；　mindful　of　his　status　and　his　duties；　who　tackled　the　unpleasant　subject。

〃Perhaps；　Monsieur；〃　he　murmured；　〃you　are　aware　by　whom　…　er　…　this　letter　was　written？〃

〃Yes；　I　know；〃　said　Van　Aldin　heavily。

〃Ah？〃　said　the　Magistrate　inquiringly。

〃A　scoundrel　who　calls　himself　the　te　de　la　Roche。〃

There　was　a　pause；　then　M。　Poirot　leaned　forward；　straightened　a　ruler　on　the　judge's　desk；　and　addressed　the　millionaire　directly。

〃M。　Van　Aldin；　we　are　all　sensible；　deeply　sensible；　of　the　pain　it　must　give　you　to　speak　of　these　matters；　but　believe　me；　Monsieur；　it　is　not　the　time　for　concealments。　If　justice　is　to　be　done；　we　must　know　everything。　If　you　will　reflect　a　little　minute　you　will　realize　the　truth　of　that　clearly　for　yourself。〃

Van　Aldin　was　silent　for　a　moment　or　two；　then　almost　reluctantly　he　nodded　his　head　in　agreement。

〃You　are　quite　right；　M。　Poirot；〃　he　said。　〃Painful　as　it　is；　I　have　no　right　to　keep　anything　back。〃

The　missary　gave　a　sigh　of　relief；　and　the　Examining　Magistrate　leaned　back　in　his　chair　and　adjusted　a　pince…nez　on　his　long　thin　nose。

〃Perhaps　you　will　tell　us　in　your　own　words；　M。　Van　Aldin；〃　he　said；　〃all　that　you　know　of　this　gentleman。〃

〃It　began　eleven　or　twelve　years　ago　…　in　Paris。　My　daughter　was　a　young　girl　then；　and　of　foolish；　romantic　notions；　like　all　young　girls　are。　Unknown　to　me；　she