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CHAPTER XII. THE LAST LINK
POIROT'S abrupt departure had intrigued us all greatly. Sunday morning
wore away, and still he did not reappear. But about three o'clock a ferocious
and prolonged hooting outside drove us to the window, to see Poirot
alighting from a car, accompanied by Japp and Summerhaye. The little man
was transformed. He radiated an absurd complacency. He bowed with
exaggerated respect to Mary Cavendish.
"
Madame, I have your permission to hold a little reunion in the salon? It is
necessary for every one to attend."
Mary smiled sadly.
"
You know, Monsieur Poirot, that you have carte blanche in every way."
You are too amiable, madame."
"
Still beaming, Poirot marshalled us all into the drawing-room, bringing
forward chairs as he did so.
"Miss Howard--here. Mademoiselle Cynthia. Monsieur Lawrence. The good
Dorcas. And Annie. Bien! We must delay our proceedings a few minutes
until Mr. Inglethorp arrives. I have sent him a note."
Miss Howard rose immediately from her seat.
"If that man comes into the house, I leave it!"
"No, no!" Poirot went up to her and pleaded in a low voice.
Finally Miss Howard consented to return to her chair. A few minutes later
Alfred Inglethorp entered the room.
The company once assembled, Poirot rose from his seat with the air of a
popular lecturer, and bowed politely to his audience.
"
Messieurs, mesdames, as you all know, I was called in by Monsieur John
Cavendish to investigate this case. I at once examined the bedroom of the
deceased which, by the advice of the doctors, had been kept locked, and was
consequently exactly as it had been when the tragedy occurred. I found:
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