sign of Poirot. I was getting angry. He
was really treating us in the most cavalier fashion.

After lunch, Lawrence drew me aside, and asked if I was going down to
see him.

"No, I don't think I shall. He can come up here if he wants to see us."

"Oh!" Lawrence looked indeterminate. Something unusually nervous and
excited in his manner roused my curiosity.

"What is it?" I asked. "I could go if there's anything special."

"It's nothing much, but--well, if you are going, will you tell him--"
he dropped his voice to a whisper--"I think I've found the extra
coffee-cup!"

I had almost forgotten that enigmatical message of Poirot's, but now my
curiosity was aroused afresh.

Lawrence would say no more, so I decided that I would descend from my
high horse, and once more seek out Poirot at Leastways Cottage.

This time I was received with a smile. Monsieur Poirot was within. Would
I mount? I mounted accordingly.

Poirot was sitting by the table, his head buried in his hands. He sprang
up at my entrance.

"What is it?" I asked solicitously. "You are not ill, I trust?"

"No, no, not ill. But I decide an affair of great moment."

"Whether to catch the criminal or not?" I asked facetiously.

But, to my great surprise, Poirot nodded gravely.

"'To speak or not to speak,' as your so great Shakespeare says, 'that
is the question.'"

I did not trouble to correct the quotation.

"You are not serious, Poirot?"

"I am of the most serious. For the most serious of all things hangs in
the balance."

"And that is?"

"A woman's happiness, mon ami," he said gravely.

I did not quite know what to say.

"The moment has come," said Poirot thoughtfully, "and I do not know what
to do. For, see you, it is a big stake for which I play. No one but I,
Hercule Poirot, would attempt it!" And he tapped himself proudly on the
breast.

After pausing a few minutes respectfully, so as not to spoil his effect,
I gave him Lawrence's message.

"Aha!" he cried. "So he has found the extra coffee-cup. That is good.
He has more intelligence than would appear, this long-faced Monsieur
Lawrence of yours!"

I did not myself think very highly of Lawrence's intelligence; but
I forebore to contradict Poirot, and gently took him to task for
forgetting my instructions as to which were Cynthia's days off.

"It is true. I have the head of a sieve. However, the other young
lady was most kind. She was sorry for my disappointment, and showed me