"Yes. I should fancy he had found her very useful," remarked
Poirot. "So long as gossip busied itself in coupling their names
together, any other vagaries of the doctor's passed unobserved."
"Then you think he never really cared for her?" I asked
eagerly--rather too eagerly, perhaps, under the circumstances.
"That, of course, I cannot say, but--shall I tell you my own
private opinion, Hastings?"
"Yes."
"Well, it is this: that Mrs. Cavendish does not care, and never
has cared one little jot about Dr. Bauerstein!"
"Do you really think so?" I could not disguise my pleasure.
"I am quite sure of it. And I will tell you why."
"Yes?"
"Because she cares for some one else, mon ami."
"Oh!" What did he mean? In spite of myself, an agreeable warmth
spread over me. I am not a vain man where women are concerned,
but I remembered certain evidences, too lightly thought of at the
time, perhaps, but which certainly seemed to indicate----
My pleasing thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of
Miss Howard.
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