“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Clever man, Bauerstein. Great authority on toxicology, I believe.”
“Indeed,” said John with a certain stiffness in his manner. Then he added rather hesitatingly: “Shall we have to appear as witnesses—all of us, I mean?”
“You, of course—and ah—er—Mr.—er—Inglethorp.”
A slight pause ensued before the lawyer went on in his soothing manner:
“Any other evidence will be simply confirmatory, a mere matter of form.”
“I see.”
A faint expression of relief swept over John’s face. It puzzled me, for I saw no occasion for it.
is a curious circumstance, my friend. Something may arise at the autopsy to explain it. In the meantime, remember it.”
As we neared the house, John came out and met us. His face looked weary and haggard.
“This is a very dreadful business, Monsieur Poirot,” he said. “Hastings has explained to you that we are anxious for no publicity?”