Poirot pushed forward a chair and he sank down on it. "Why in here? For God's sake, tell me - I've only just heard - Betty."
He was a well-made, fine-looking young fellow, standing close on six foot, not good-looking, but with a pleasant, freckled face, high cheekbones and flaming red hair. His white haggard face and bewildered eyes showed how great a shock he had had.
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