at you say about Lawrence is a great surprise to me," I said.

"But why? It was most obvious. Did not Monsieur Lawrence make the sour
face every time Mademoiselle Cynthia spoke and laughed with his brother?
He had taken it into his long head that Mademoiselle Cynthia was in
love with Monsieur John. When he entered his mother's room, and saw
her obviously poisoned, he jumped to the conclusion that Mademoiselle
Cynthia knew something about the matter. He was nearly driven desperate.
First he crushed the coffee-cup to powder under his feet, remembering
that _she_ had gone up with his mother the night before, and he
determined that there should be no chance of testing its contents.
Thenceforward, he strenuously, and quite uselessly, upheld the theory of
'Death from natural causes'."

"And what about the 'extra coffee-cup'?"

"I was fairly certain that it was Mrs. Cavendish who had hidden it, but
I had to make sure. Monsieur Lawrence did not know at all what I meant;
but, on reflection, he came to the conclusion that if he could find an
extra coffee-cup anywhere his lady love would be cleared of suspicion.
And he was perfectly right."

"One thing more. What did Mrs. Inglethorp mean by her dying words?"

"They were, of course, an accusation against her husband."

"Dear me, Poirot," I said with a sigh, "I think you have explained
everything. I am glad it has all ended so happily. Even John and his
wife are reconciled."

"Thanks to me."

"How do you mean--thanks to you?"

"My dear friend, do you not realize that it was simply and solely the
trial which has brought them together again? That John Cavendish still
loved his wife, I was convinced. Also, that she was equally in love
with him. But they had drifted very far apart. It all arose from a
misunderstanding. She married him without love. He knew it. He is a
sensitive man in his way, he would not force himself upon her if she
did not want him. And, as he withdrew, her love awoke. But they are both
unusually proud, and their pride held them inexorably apart. He drifted
into an entanglement with Mrs. Raikes, and she deliberately cultivated
the friendship of Dr. Bauerstein. Do you remember the day of John
Cavendish's arrest, when you found me deliberating over a big decision?"

"Yes, I quite understood your distress."

"Pardon me, mon ami, but you did not understand it in the least. I was
trying to decide whether or not I would clear John Cavendish at once. I
could h