the last supper painting

Well?"I demanded eagerly. We were seated in a first-class carriage which we had to ourselves.Thetrain，an express，had just drawn out of Andover. "The crime，"said Poirot，"was committed by a man of medium height withred hair and a cast in the left eye.He limps slightly on the right foot andhas a mole just below the shoulder-blade."

"Poirot?"I cried. For the moment I was completely taken in.Then the twinkle in my friend'seye undeceived me. "Poirot?"I said again，this time in reproach. "Mon ami，what will you?You fix upon me a look of doglike devotion anddemand of me a pronouncement a la Sherlock Holmes!Now for the truth-I do notknow what the murderer looks like，nor where he lives，nor how to set handsupon him."