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"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 violently by the shoulders. "Was Dr. Bauerstein
here on Tuesday evening? Here? And you never told me? Why did you not
tell me? Why? Why?"
He appeared to be in an absolute frenzy.
"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?"
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