“It was just the feeling that everybody else thought me stupid. Very paralyzing. It was the same thing later in the office.” “And later still in the war?” prompted Poirot. Mr. Cust’s face lightened up suddenly. “You know,” he said, “I enjoyed the war. What I had of it, that was. I felt, for the first time, a man like anybody else. We were all in the same box. I was as good as anyone else.”
