Poirot to be disappointed; but, to my surprise, he replied that that was as he had thought, and that he was very glad. My pride forbade me to ask any questions.
Poirot switched off on another tack.
“Mademoiselle Cynthia was not at lunch to-day? How was that?”
“She is at the hospital again. She resumed work to-day.”
“Ah, she is an industrious little demoiselle. And pretty too. She is like pictures I have seen in Italy. I would rather like to see that dispensary of hers. Do you think she would show it to me?”
Mrs. Cavendish, proud and reticent to the last degree, should interfere so violently in what was certainly not her affair.”
“Precisely. It was an astonishing thing for a woman of her breeding to do.”
“It is certainly curious,” I agreed. “Still, it is unimportant, and need not be taken into account.”