Chapter 22 Chapter 22 Papopolus' Breakfast

Papopolos and his daughter Zia are having breakfast. There was a knock at the door, and a servant entered with a calling card in his hand.Papopolos took the card and pondered it for a while, then handed it to his daughter. "Well," he snorted, scratching his left ear thoughtfully, "Herkule Poirot! I'm not interested in that man." "He did you a great favor once," his daughter reminded him. "Yes." Papopolus replied positively. "Besides, he's retired now anyway." The conversation between father and daughter is in Greek.Now, Papopolus said to the servant, let the guest come in.

A few minutes later Hercule Poirot entered the living room, dressed as usual, waving his cane with vigor. "My dear Monsieur Papopolos!" "My dear M. Poirot!" "Oh, and the charming Miss Zia is here!" Poirot bowed deeply. "We continue to have breakfast, please don't mind." Papopolos said and poured himself another cup of coffee. "It's too early to be a guest." "It's a shame to be early," added Poirot. "However, I am in a hurry, so please understand that." "Oh, oh, that's it," Papopolos echoed in a low voice. "Are you here to negotiate a deal?"

"It is a very important transaction related to the murder of Mrs. Kettering." "Please wait a moment!" Papopolos looked up at the ceiling indifferently. "Is it the lady who died on the 'Blue Express'? I read about it in the papers. But it didn't say it was a crime." "For legal reasons it is better to keep silent about the facts," said Poirot. "But how can I help you, M. Poirot?" asked the antique dealer after a pause. "I'll explain it to you right away." Poirot took out from his pocket the blue parcel which he had shown von Arden in Cannes.He opened the parcel and held the jewel before Papopolus' eyes.

The old antique dealer's face was expressionless.Not a single muscle moved.He took the gem in his hand and inspected it with an expert eye for a long time.Then cast a suspicious look at the old detective on the opposite side. "Pretty, isn't it?" asked Poirot. "It is beautiful," Papopolus agreed. "How much do you think it's worth?" At this time, the muscles on the old Greek's face twitched somewhat. "Poirot, shall I tell you the truth?" he asked. "No, not really. I think half a million dollars is always worth it." Papopolos laughed, and Poirot laughed in sympathy.

"As a copy," said Papopolos, returning the jewel to Poirot, "as a counterfeit, as I say, it is beautiful, and, pardon my indiscretion, I ask M. Poirot: is it How did it get into your hands?" "Not rashly. I have no secrets from old friends. The jewel was found with Count Roger." Papopolus' blue eyes sparkled. "What are you talking about!" he exclaimed in a low voice. Poirot sat hunched over now, more indifferent than ever. "Papopolus," he said, "I present my cards to you. The original jewel belonged to Ms. Kettering, but it was stolen on the 'Blue Express.' First I must tell you: take the jewel It's none of my business to get it back, it's the police's business. My sole purpose is to find out who the murderer of Mrs. Kettering is. These gems interest me because they lead me to Murderer. Do you understand?"

When the detective said these words, he used a particularly emphatic tone.Papopolus said indifferently: "Please continue to speak." "Mr. Papopolos, these gems are probably changing owners, or have already changed owners." Papopolos took a sip of his coffee thoughtfully, making him look even more gentlemanly. "I have said to myself," continued Poirot, "how fortunate my old friend is at Nizza! He will certainly help me." "How can I help you?" Papopolos asked indifferently. "I guessed at the time that Papopolus must have come to Niza to make a deal."

"Wrong guess," retorted Papopolos, "I came here for health reasons, and I came to Nizha on the orders of my doctor," he said, coughing loudly. "It's a pity," said Poirot with great sympathy. "But let's go on. If a Russian grand duke or an Austrian grand duke were to exchange his heirloom jewels for money, whose disciples would they find? Papopolus, of course, who Renowned for prudence in his dealings." "You are flattering me." "Prudence is great, and I'm cautious sometimes." Their eyes met again. Then Poirot went on, choosing his words carefully:

"I later speculated that if these gems had changed owners in Niza, then Papopolus must have heard about it, and he knew every transaction in the gem market like the back of his hand." "Ah!" Papopolus yelled, and unhurriedly spread another layer of honey on the bread. "Do you understand?" declared Poirot. "The police have nothing to do with it. This is a private case." "But rumors have spread." Papopolos said cautiously. "Please give an example." "Why do I need to spread these rumors?" "It is necessary," said Poirot. "You may also recall, Mr. Papopolos, that seventeen years ago, you were carrying on a column of considerable value. You were insured by a distinguished personage. You were in charge of these valuables. , but somehow these things suddenly disappeared. You were in a very difficult situation."

After he finished speaking, he cast a soft look at the girl, who put the dishes aside and was listening attentively. "You asked me to retrieve these things for you at that time, and said that if I could retrieve them, I would thank me a lot. How about now, I have retrieved those things for you." Papopolos sighed deeply. "That was the most unpleasant moment of my life," he said in a low voice. "Seventeen years is not a short period of time," said Poirot thoughtfully, "but I believe, it should be said, that your nation will not forget." "Do you mean the Greek nation?"

"uncertain." There was a long silence, then the old man rose proudly. "You are right, M. Poirot," he said calmly. "I am a Jew, and you are absolutely right. Our nation will never forget it." "Would you like to help me?" "About the gem, unfortunately I can't help much." The old man was weighing the weight of his words. "I don't know anything, I haven't heard anything! But if you're interested in horse racing, I'm willing to help." "In some cases, I am also very interested in this." Poirot said calmly, looking at the other party.

"There is a horse running on the racetrack, and everyone is watching it attentively. Of course, I don't know the specific details. I don't know how many people have heard of this kind of news." "I quite understand," said Poirot, nodding. "The horse's name," continued Papopolos, "is Marquis. I believe it is an English horse, but I cannot be sure." Poirot rose to his feet. "Thank you, Mr. Papopolos. It is always a good thing to have horses of all types in the stables. Goodbye, sir. Thank you very much." He turned to the girl. "Goodbye, Miss Zia. I always feel as if I parted from you yesterday." "There's always a difference between sixteen and thirty-three anyway," Zia said, giving him a melancholy smile. "You are not like that!" said Poirot. "It would be a great pleasure for me if you and your father could lunch with me in the next few days." "It's a great honor for us," Zia replied. Humming a cheerful song, Poirot strolled away, waving his cane smartly in his hand. He reached the largest post office and sent a telegram.The telegram was sent to Yap, the Metropolitan Police Constable, about the search for a missing tie pin. However, when the recipient deciphered it with a special cipher, the content was: "Please telegraph me as soon as possible about all the circumstances of the person nicknamed 'Marquis'."