' You ought to be ashamed of yourself, John Cavendish."
"What do you want me to do?" asked John, unable to help a faint
smile. "Dash it all, Evie, I can't haul him down to the local
police station by the scruff of his neck."
"Well, you might do something. Find out how he did it. He's a
crafty beggar. Dare say he soaked fly papers. Ask Cook if she's
missed any."
It occurred to me very forcibly at that moment that to harbour
Miss Howard and Alfred Inglethorp under the same roof, and keep
the peace between them, was likely to prove a Herculean task, and
I did not envy John. I could see by the expression of his face
that he fully appreciated the difficulty of the position. For
the moment, he sought refuge in retreat, and left the room
precipitately.
Dorcas brought in fresh tea. As she left the room, Poirot came
over from the window where he had been standing, and sat down
facing Miss Howard.
"Mademoiselle," he said gravely, "I want to ask you something."
"Ask away," said the lady, eyeing him with some disfavour.
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