10. The Evidence of the Italian

           “Andnow,”saidPoirotwithatwinkleinhiseye,“wewilldelighttheheartofM.BoucandseetheItalian.”

           AntonioFoscarellicameintothediningcarwithaswift,catliketread.Hisfacebeamed.ItwasatypicalItalianface,sunnylookingandswarthy.

           HespokeFrenchwellandfluently,withonlyaslightaccent.

           “YournameisAntonioFoscarelli?”

           “Yes,Monsieur.”

           “Youare,Isee,anaturalizedAmericansubject?”

           TheAmericangrinned.

           “Yes,Monsieur.Itisbetterformybusiness.”

           “YouareanagentforFordmotorcars?”

           “Yes,yousee—”

           Avolubleexpositionfollowed.Attheendofit,anythingthatthethreemendidnotknowaboutFoscarelli’sbusinessmethods,hisjourneys,hisincome,andhisopinionoftheUnitedStatesandmostEuropeancountriesseemedanegligiblefactor.Thiswasnotamanwhohadtohaveinformationdraggedfromhim.Itgushedout.

           Hisgood-naturedchildishfacebeamedwithsatisfactionaswithalasteloquentgesture,hepausedandwipedhisforeheadwithahandkerchief.

           “Soyousee,”hesaid,“Idobigbusiness.Iamuptodate.Iunderstandsalesmanship!”

           “YouhavebeenintheUnitedStates,then,forthelasttenyearsonandoff?”

           “Yes,Monsieur.Ah!welldoIrememberthedayIfirsttooktheboat—togotoAmerica,sofaraway!Mymother,mylittlesister—”

           Poirotcutshortthefloodofreminiscence.

           “DuringyoursojournintheUnitedStatesdidyouevercomeacrossthedeceased?”

           “Never.ButIknowthetype.Oh,yes.”Hesnappedhisfingersexpressively.