"My dear Poirot," I expostulated, "I never thought it would
interest you. I didn't know it was of any importance."
"Importance? It is of the first importance! So Dr. Bauerstein was
here on Tuesday night--the night of the murder. Hastings, do you
not see? That alters everything--everything!"
I had never seen him so upset. Loosening his hold of me, he
mechanically straightened a pair of candlesticks, still murmuring
to himself: "Yes, that alters everything--everything."
Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision.
"Allons!" he said. "We must act at once. Where is Mr.
Cavendish?"
John was in the smoking-room. Poirot went straight to him.
"Mr. Cavendish, I have some important business in Tadminster. A
new clue. May I take your motor?"
"Why, of course. Do you mean at once?"
"If you please."
John rang the bell, and ordered round the car. In another ten
minutes, we were racing down the park and along the high road to
Tadminster.
"Now, Poirot," I remarked resignedly, "perhaps you will tell me
what all this is about?"
"Well, mon ami, a good deal you can guess for yourself.
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