Inglethorp's room as before.
I took him down to the boudoir which he had expressed a wish to
see, and went myself in search of Dorcas.
When I returned with her, however, the boudoir was empty.
"Poirot," I cried, "where are you?"
"I am here, my friend."
He had stepped outside the French window, and was standing,
apparently lost in admiration, before the various shaped flower
beds.
"Admirable!" he murmured. "Admirable! What symmetry! Observe
that crescent; and those diamonds--their neatness rejoices the
eye. The spacing of the plants, also, is perfect. It has been
recently done; is it not so?"
"Yes, I believe they were at it yesterday afternoon. But come
in--Dorcas is here."
"Eh bien, eh bien! Do not grudge me a moment's satisfaction of
the eye."
"Yes, but this affair is more important."
"And how do you know that these fine begonias are not of equal
importance?"
I shrugged my shoulders. There was really no arguing with him if
he chose to take that line.
"You do not agree? But such things have been.
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