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"Aha!" he cried. "So he has found the extra coffee-cup. That is good. He has
more intelligence than would appear, this long-faced Monsieur Lawrence of
yours!"
I did not myself think very highly of Lawrence's intelligence; but I forebore to
contradict Poirot, and gently took him to task for forgetting my instructions
as to which were Cynthia's days off.
"It is true. I have the head of a sieve. However, the other young lady was
most kind. She was sorry for my disappointment, and showed me everything
in the kindest way."
"
Oh, well, that's all right, then, and you must go to tea with Cynthia another
day."
I told him about the letter.
"I am sorry for that," he said. "I always had hopes of that letter. But no, it
was not to be. This affair must all be unravelled from within." He tapped his
forehead. "These little grey cells. It is 'up to them'--as you say over here."
Then, suddenly, he asked: "Are you a judge of finger-marks, my friend?"
"No," I said, rather surprised, "I know that there are no two finger-marks
alike, but that's as far as my science goes."
"
Exactly."
He unlocked a little drawer, and took out some photographs which he laid
on the table.
"
I have numbered them, 1, 2, 3. Will you describe them to me?"
I studied the proofs attentively.
All greatly magnified, I see. No. 1, I should say, are a man's finger-prints;
"
thumb and first finger. No. 2 are a lady's; they are much smaller, and quite
different in every way. No. 3"--I paused for some time--"there seem to be a
lot of confused finger-marks, but here, very distinctly, are No. 1's."
"
Overlapping the others?"
Yes."
"
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