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Nothing more to do, Nibs?"

No."

All right. Then we can lock up and go."

I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon. Compared to

John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to get to know. He was the

opposite of his brother in almost every respect, being unusually shy and

reserved. Yet he had a certain charm of manner, and I fancied that, if one

really knew him well, one could have a deep affection for him. I had always

fancied that his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained, and that she on

her side was inclined to be shy of him. But they were both gay enough this

afternoon, and chatted together like a couple of children.

As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps,

so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.

As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering. I

drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, he

clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly.

Mon ami Hastings!" he cried. "It is indeed mon ami Hastings!"

Poirot!" I exclaimed.

I turned to the pony-trap.

This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This is my old friend,

Monsieur Poirot, whom I have not seen for years."

"Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot," said Cynthia gaily. "But I had no idea he

was a friend of yours."

"Yes, indeed," said Poirot seriously. "I know Mademoiselle Cynthia. It is by

the charity of that good Mrs. Inglethorp that I am here." Then, as I looked at

him inquiringly: "Yes, my friend, she had kindly extended hospitality to

seven of my countrypeople who, alas, are refugees from their native land. We

Belgians will always remember her with gratitude."

Poirot was an extraordinary looking little man. He was hardly more than five

feet, four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly

The Mysterious Affair at Styles