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But, at lunch-time, there arrived a new piece of evidence--or rather lack of
evidence. We had vainly tried to trace the fourth letter, which Mrs.
Inglethorp had written on the evening preceding her death. Our efforts
having been in vain, we had abandoned the matter, hoping that it might
turn up of itself one day. And this is just what did happen, in the shape of a
communication, which arrived by the second post from a firm of French
music publishers, acknowledging Mrs. Inglethorp's cheque, and regretting
they had been unable to trace a certain series of Russian folksongs. So the
last hope of solving the mystery, by means of Mrs. Inglethorp's
correspondence on the fatal evening, had to be abandoned.
Just before tea, I strolled down to tell Poirot of the new disappointment, but
found, to my annoyance, that he was once more out.
"
"
Gone to London again?"
Oh, no, monsieur, he has but taken the train to Tadminster. 'To see a
young lady's dispensary,' he said."
"Silly ass!" I ejaculated. "I told him Wednesday was the one day she wasn't
there! Well, tell him to look us up to-morrow morning, will you?"
"Certainly, monsieur."
But, on the following day, no sign of Poirot. I was getting angry. He was
really treating us in the most cavalier fashion.
After lunch, Lawrence drew me aside, and asked if I was going down to see
him.
"
No, I don't think I shall. He can come up here if he wants to see us."
Oh!" Lawrence looked indeterminate. Something unusually nervous and
"
excited in his manner roused my curiosity.
"
What is it?" I asked. "I could go if there's anything special."
"It's nothing much, but--well, if you are going, will you tell him--" he
dropped his voice to a whisper--"I think I've found the extra coffee-cup!"
I had almost forgotten that enigmatical message of Poirot's, but now my
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