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"Perhaps, mon ami, I did not do so, just because he was your old friend."
I was rather disconcerted by this, remembering how I had busily passed on
to John what I believed to be Poirot's views concerning Bauerstein. He, by
the way, had been acquitted of the charge brought against him.
Nevertheless, although he had been too clever for them this time, and the
charge of espionage could not be brought home to him, his wings were
pretty well clipped for the future.
I asked Poirot whether he thought John would be condemned. To my
intense surprise, he replied that, on the contrary, he was extremely likely to
be acquitted.
"But, Poirot--" I protested.
"Oh, my friend, have I not said to you all along that I have no proofs. It is
one thing to know that a man is guilty, it is quite another matter to prove
him so. And, in this case, there is terribly little evidence. That is the whole
trouble. I, Hercule Poirot, know, but I lack the last link in my chain. And
unless I can find that missing link--" He shook his head gravely.
"When did you first suspect John Cavendish?" I asked, after a minute or
two.
"
"
"
Did you not suspect him at all?"
No, indeed."
Not after that fragment of conversation you overheard between Mrs.
Cavendish and her mother-in-law, and her subsequent lack of frankness at
the inquest?"
"No."
"
Did you not put two and two together, and reflect that if it was not Alfred
Inglethorp who was quarrelling with his wife--and you remember, he
strenuously denied it at the inquest--it must be either Lawrence or John.
Now, if it was Lawrence, Mary Cavendish's conduct was just as inexplicable.
But if, on the other hand, it was John, the whole thing was explained quite
naturally."
"So," I cried, a light breaking in upon me, "it was John who quarrelled with
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