For a moment, I thought she wavered. A softer expression came over her face, then suddenly she turned almost fiercely away.
“None!”
She was walking away when John sprang after her, and caught her by the arm.
“Mary”—his voice was very quiet now—“are you in love with this fellow Bauerstein?”
She hesitated, and suddenly there swept across her face a strange expression, old as the hills, yet with something eternally young about it. So might some Egyptian sphinx have smiled.
She freed herself quietly
he said, nodding gravely. “He will have evidence to give at the inquest.”
We went slowly upstairs again. I was opening my lips, when Poirot stopped me with a gesture of his hand.
“Not now, not now, mon ami. I have need of reflection. My mind is in some disorder—which is not well.”
For about ten minutes