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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.
I was dumbfounded. What on earth could Poirot be doing in London! Was it
a sudden decision on his part, or had he already made up his mind when he
parted from me a few hours earlier?
I retraced my steps to Styles in some annoyance. With Poirot away, I was
uncertain how to act. Had he foreseen this arrest? Had he not, in all
probability, been the cause of it? Those questions I could not resolve. But in
the meantime what was I to do? Should I announce the arrest openly at
Styles, or not? Though I did not acknowledge it to myself, the thought of
Mary Cavendish was weighing on me. Would it not be a terrible shock to
her? For the moment, I set aside utterly any suspicions of her. She could
not be implicated--otherwise I should have heard some hint of it.
Of course, there was no possibility of being able permanently to conceal Dr.
Bauerstein's arrest from her. It would be announced in every newspaper on
the morrow. Still, I shrank from blurting it out. If only Poirot had been
accessible, I could have asked his advice. What possessed him to go posting
off to London in this unaccountable way?
In spite of myself, my opinion of his sagacity was immeasurably heightened.
I would never have dreamt of suspecting the doctor, had not Poirot put it
into my head. Yes, decidedly, the little man was clever.
After some reflecting, I decided to take John into my confidence, and leave
him to make the matter public or not, as he thought fit.
He gave vent to a prodigious whistle, as I imparted the news.
"
Great Scot! You were right, then. I couldn't believe it at the time."
"
No, it is astonishing until you get used to the idea, and see how it makes
everything fit in. Now, what are we to do? Of course, it will be generally
known to-morrow."
John reflected.
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