“My good woman,” I said, “I examined the body, and I know what I’m talking about. That wound wasn’t inflicted after death—it was the cause of death, and you need make no mistake about it.”
Caroline merely continued to look omniscient, which so annoyed me that I went on:
“Perhaps you will tell me, Caroline, if I have a medical degree or if I have not?”
“You have the medical degree, I dare say, James—at least, I mean I know you have. But you’ve no imagination whatever.”
“Having endowed you with a treble portion, there was none left over for me,” I said drily.
I was amused to see Caroline’s manoeuvres that afternoon when Poirot duly arrived. My sister, without asking a direct question, skirted the subject of the mysterious guest in every way imaginable. By the twinkle in Poirot’s eyes, I saw that he realized her object. He remained blandly impervious, and blocked her bowling so successfully that she herself was at a loss how to proceed.
Having, I suspect, quietly enjoyed the little game, he rose to his feet and suggested a walk.
“It is that I need to reduce the figure a little,” he explained. “You will come with me, doctor? And perhaps later, Miss Caroline will give us some tea.”
“Delighted,” said Caroline. “Won’t your—er—guest come in also?”
“You are too kind,” said Poirot. “But no, my friend reposes himself. Soon you must make his acquaintance.”