have brought him back to you.” He had stood aside, and as I went out I had seen the look in Mary’s eyes, as John Cavendish had caught his wife in his arms.

“Perhaps you are right, Poirot,” I said gently. “Yes, it is the greatest thing in the world.”

Suddenly, there was a tap at the door, and Cynthia peeped in.

“I—I only–-”

“Come in,” I said, springing up.

She came in, but did not sit down.

“I—only wanted to tell you something–-”

“Yes?”

Cynthia fidgeted with a little tassel for some moments,

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