You see, up to the
very last minute, I thought it was Lawrence!"
Poirot grinned.
"I know you did."
"But John! My old friend John!"
"Every murderer is probably somebody's old friend," observed
Poirot philosophically. "You cannot mix up sentiment and
reason."
"I must say I think you might have given me a hint."
"Perhaps, mon ami, I did not do so, just because he _was_ your
old friend."
I was rather disconcerted by this, remembering how I had busily
passed on to John what I believed to be Poirot's views concerning
Bauerstein. He, by the way, had been acquitted of the charge
brought against him. Nevertheless, although he had been too
clever for them this time, and the charge of espionage could not
be brought home to him, his wings were pretty well clipped for
the future.
I asked Poirot whether he thought John would be condemned. To my
intense surprise, he replied that, on the contrary, he was
extremely likely to be acquitted.
"But, Poirot--" I protested.
"Oh, my friend, have I not said to you all along that I have no
proofs.
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