other about anything. Mr. Poirot, here, will
show me the way."

As they all went out of the room, Poirot turned and made me a sign to
follow him upstairs. There he caught me by the arm, and drew me aside.

"Quick, go to the other wing. Stand there--just this side of the baize
door. Do not move till I come." Then, turning rapidly, he rejoined the
two detectives.

I followed his instructions, taking up my position by the baize door,
and wondering what on earth lay behind the request. Why was I to
stand in this particular spot on guard? I looked thoughtfully down
the corridor in front of me. An idea struck me. With the exception of
Cynthia Murdoch's, every one's room was in this left wing. Had that
anything to do with it? Was I to report who came or went? I stood
faithfully at my post. The minutes passed. Nobody came. Nothing
happened.

It must have been quite twenty minutes before Poirot rejoined me.

"You have not stirred?"

"No, I've stuck here like a rock. Nothing's happened."

"Ah!" Was he pleased, or disappointed? "You've seen nothing at all?"

"No."

"But you have probably heard something? A big bump--eh, mon ami?"

"No."

"Is it possible? Ah, but I am vexed with myself! I am not usually
clumsy. I made but a slight gesture"--I know Poirot's gestures--"with
the left hand, and over went the table by the bed!"

He looked so childishly vexed and crest-fallen that I hastened to
console him.

"Never mind, old chap. What does it matter? Your triumph downstairs
excited you. I can tell you, that was a surprise to us all. There must
be more in this affair of Inglethorp's with Mrs. Raikes than we thought,
to make him hold his tongue so persistently. What are you going to do
now? Where are the Scotland Yard fellows?"

"Gone down to interview the servants. I showed them all our exhibits. I
am disappointed in Japp. He has no method!"

"Hullo!" I said, looking out of the window. "Here's Dr. Bauerstein. I
believe you're right about that man, Poirot. I don't like him."

"He is clever," observed Poirot meditatively.

"Oh, clever as the devil! I must say I was overjoyed to see him in the
plight he was in on Tuesday. You never saw such a spectacle!" And
I described the doctor's adventure. "He looked a regular scarecrow!
Plastered with mud from head to foot."

"You saw him, then?"

"Yes. Of course, he didn't want to come in--it was just after
dinner--but Mr. Inglethorp insisted."

"What?" Poirot caught me viol