“And what do you think of Dr. Bernard, Hastings?” inquired Poirot, as we proceeded on our way to the Manor.

“Rather an old ass.”

“Exactly. Your judgments of character are always profound, my friend.”

I glanced at him uneasily, but he seemed perfectly serious. A twinkle, however, came into his eye, and he added slyly:

“That is to say, when there is no question of a beautiful woman!”

I looked at him coldly.