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“
Not
exactly
,
”
said
Poirot
,
with
an
enigmatical
smile
.
“
I
am
more
interested
in
Count
Foscatini
’
s
appetite
.
Did
he
partake
of
every
dish
?
”
“
Yes
;
but
of
course
I
can
’
t
say
how
much
of
each
he
ate
.
The
plates
were
all
soiled
,
and
the
dishes
empty
—
that
is
to
say
,
with
the
exception
of
the
rice
soufflé
.
There
was
a
fair
amount
of
that
left
.
”
“
Ah
!
”
said
Poirot
,
and
seemed
satisfied
with
the
fact
.
As
we
descended
to
the
flat
again
he
remarked
in
a
low
tone
:
“
We
have
decidedly
to
do
with
a
man
of
method
.
”
“
Do
you
mean
the
murderer
,
or
Count
Foscatini
?
”
“
The
latter
was
undoubtedly
an
orderly
gentleman
.
After
imploring
help
and
announcing
his
approaching
demise
,
he
carefully
hung
up
the
telephone
receiver
.
”
I
stared
at
Poirot
.
His
words
now
and
his
recent
inquiries
gave
me
the
glimmering
of
an
idea
.
“
You
suspect
poison
?
”
I
breathed
.
“
The
blow
on
the
head
was
a
blind
.
”
