“No sugar,” said Cynthia, watching him, as he picked up the sugar-tongs.

“No sugar? You abandon it in the wartime, eh?”

“No, I never take it in coffee.”

“ Sacré! ” murmured Poirot to himself, as he brought back the replenished cup.

Only I heard him, and glancing up curiously at the little man I saw that his face was working with suppressed excitement, and his eyes were as green as a cat’s. He had heard or seen something that had affected him strongly⁠—but what was it? I do not usually label myself as dense, but I must confess that nothing out of the ordinary had attracted my attention.

In another moment, the door opened and Dorcas appeared.