“But, ma fois, Hastings, you are all wet! Do not drip your water on my nice clean carpet. Go and remove those sodden garments at once. Whatever possessed you to go about like that?”

Hastings waited until Poirot had finished speaking, and then said, “It may have escaped your notice, Poirot, but it is raining.”

“I know it is raining. And that is why you are wet. But why did you choose to take your exercise in it? It is surely not rational.”

“If you recall, you asked me to go and get you copies of the early evening newspapers.” Hastings produced the two papers from inside his overcoat and stepped towards Poirot to hand them over.

Poirot held up his hand. “No, do not take another step. You may place the newspapers on that shelf and I will come over and pick them up. And why did you not take your car to fetch them?”

“She was only polished yesterday. I didn’t want her to get wet so soon.”

“Tsk, tsk. I do not understand the care you lavish on an inanimate object. It is completely unreasonable.”

Hastings was tempted to say the same thing could be applied to Poirot’s moustaches, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Poirot continued. “And why did you not ask me for my opinion before you went out? I would have told you not to get caught out in the rain.”

“And would you have told me how to avoid it?”

Poirot threw his hands in the air. “Must I do that as well? You are a grown man, surely you can make some decisions yourself. And why are you still here? I told you to go and get changed. If you do not do so, you will come down with a cold, which you will no doubt pass onto me. In fact, I feel the onset of it already.”

Hastings sighed, refrained from saying it was Poirot who had detained him and departed, muttering, “If we wait until it stops raining we will get nothing done for the next week.”