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"
Have
you
ever
been
in
Chicago
?
"
inquired
M.
Bouc
.
"
Oh
,
yes
--
a
fine
city
--
but
I
know
best
New
York
,
Washington
,
Detroit
.
You
have
been
to
the
States
?
No
?
You
should
go
,
it
--
"
Poirot
pushed
a
sheet
of
paper
across
to
him
.
"
If
you
will
sign
this
,
and
put
your
permanent
address
,
please
.
"
The
Italian
wrote
with
a
flourish
.
Then
he
rose
--
his
smile
was
as
engaging
as
ever
.
"
That
is
all
?
You
do
not
require
me
further
?
Good
day
to
you
,
Messieurs
.
I
wish
we
could
get
out
of
the
snow
.
I
have
an
appointment
in
Milan
--
"
He
shook
his
head
sadly
.
"
I
shall
lose
the
business
.
"
He
departed
.
Poirot
looked
at
his
friend
.
"
He
has
been
a
long
time
in
America
,
"
said
M
Bouc
,
"
and
he
is
an
Italian
,
and
Italians
use
the
knife
!
And
they
are
great
liars
!
I
do
not
like
Italians
.
"
