It occurred to me suddenly that I would go down to the village,
and look up Bauerstein. Somebody ought to be keeping an eye on
the fellow. At the same time, it would be wise to allay any
suspicions he might have as to his being suspected. I remembered
how Poirot had relied on my diplomacy. Accordingly, I went to
the little house with the "Apartments" card inserted in the
window, where I knew he lodged, and tapped on the door.
An old woman came and opened it.
"Good afternoon," I said pleasantly. "Is Dr. Bauerstein in?"
She stared at me.
"Haven't you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"About him."
"What about him?"
"He's took."
"Took? Dead?"
"No, took by the perlice."
"By the police!" I gasped. "Do you mean they've arrested him?"
"Yes, that's it, and--"
I waited to hear no more, but tore up the village to find Poirot.
CHAPTER X.
THE ARREST
To my extreme annoyance, Poirot was not in, and the old Belgian
who answered my knock informed me that he believed he had gone to
London.
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