Not entirely approving of this sudden bid for the limelight on the part of her satellite Lady Westholme said coldly: "Is there anything else, M. Poirot?"

With a start, Poirot seemed to come out of a brown study. "Nothing, nothing. You have been most clear—most definite."

"I have an excellent memory," said Lady Westholme with satisfaction.

"One last little demand. Lady Westholme," said Poirot. "Please continue to sit as you are sitting—without looking around. Now, would you be so kind as to describe to me just what Miss Pierce is wearing today—that is, if Miss Pierce does not object?"

"Oh, no, not in the least!" twittered Miss Pierce. "Really, M. Poirot, is there any object—"

"Please be so kind as to do as I ask, Madame."

Lady Westholme shrugged her shoulders and then said with a rather bad grace: "Miss Pierce has on a striped brown and white cotton dress and is wearing with it a Sudanese belt of red, blue and beige leather. She is wearing beige silk stockings and brown glace strap shoes. There is a ladder in her left stocking. She has a necklace of cornelian beads and one of bright royal blue beads and is wearing a brooch with a pearl butterfly on it. She has an imitation scarab ring on the third finger of her right hand. On her head she has a double terai of pink and brown felt." She paused—a pause of quiet competence. Then: "Is there anything further?" she asked coldly.

Poirot spread out his hands in a wide gesture. "You have my entire admiration, Madame. Your observation is of the highest order."

"Details rarely escape me." Lady Westholme rose, made a slight inclination of her head and left the room. As Miss Pierce was following her, gazing down ruefully at her left leg, Poirot said: "A little moment, please, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes?" Miss Pierce looked up, a slightly apprehensive look upon her face.

Poirot leaned forward confidentially. "You see this bunch of wild flowers on the table here?"

"Yes," said Miss Pierce staring.

"And you noticed that, when you first came into the room, I sneezed once or twice?"

"Yes."

"Did you notice if I had just been sniffing those flowers?"

"Well—really—no—I couldn't say."

"But you remember my sneezing?"

"Oh, yes, I remember that!"

"Ah, well—no matter. I wondered, you see, if these flowers might induce the hay fever. No matter!"

"Hay fever!" cried Miss Pierce. "I remember a cousin of mine was a martyr to it! She always said that if you sprayed your nose daily with a solution of boracic—"

With some difficulty Poirot shelved the cousin's nasal treatment and got rid of Miss Pierce. He shut the door and came back into the room with his eyebrows raised.

"But I did not sneeze," he murmured. "So much for that. No, I did not sneeze."

6

Lennox Boynton came into the room with a quick resolute step. Had he been there, Dr. Gerard would have been surprised at the change in the man. The apathy was gone. His bearing was alert—although he was plainly nervous. His eyes had a tendency to shift rapidly from point to point about the room.