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"No," I confessed, "I never thought of such a thing."
"
He is, of course, a German by birth," said Poirot thoughtfully, "though he
has practiced so long in this country that nobody thinks of him as anything
but an Englishman. He was naturalized about fifteen years ago. A very
clever man--a Jew, of course."
"
The blackguard!" I cried indignantly.
"Not at all. He is, on the contrary, a patriot. Think what he stands to lose. I
admire the man myself."
But I could not look at it in Poirot's philosophical way.
"And this is the man with whom Mrs. Cavendish has been wandering about
all over the country!" I cried indignantly.
"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
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