I'd still like to know what the color of Lowen's trousers has got to do with anything.
Surely that is obvious, Hastings. Monsieur Lowen says that he did not pass Monsieur Davenheim in the lane, oui? Now, is he lying, Hastings, or did he in fact kill Monsieur Davenheim? A messy scuffle in the country road, a disposal of a body in a muddy field, and still he manages to turn up at the house minutes later so immaculately dressed.
Ah. Seemed rather trivial.
No, Hastings. Nothing is trivial in the matter of murder. I commend also to your attention the fact that before he leaves a room, Monsieur Davenheim puts onto the gramophone a record of the "1812 Overture."
Well, that was highly significant, too, was it?
Well, we may as yet be on the wrong track, but at least it is suggestive.
Track! That was it! Gerald Lowen.
Comment?
Gerald Lowen. Races a couple of Bugattis, just beginning to make a name for himself on the circuit. I bet it's the same chap.
Ah, the racing of the cars, hein? Round and around in the circles. Never will I understand the passion for such a pointless pastime.
Well, you've got to experience it, Poirot. The sheer exhilaration of flying around on the seat of your pants.
Yes, well, Hastings, perhaps you should try cleaning them first.
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