“ Dr. Bauerstein’s arrest, of course,” I answered impatiently.
“Is Bauerstein arrested, then?”
“Did you not know it?”
“Not the least in the world.” But, pausing a moment, he added: “Still, it does not surprise me. After all, we are only four miles from the coast.”
“The coast?” I asked, puzzled. “What has that got to do with it?”
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
“Surely, it is obvious!”
“Not to me. No doubt I am very dense, but I cannot see what the proximity of the coast has got to do with the murder of Mrs. Inglethorp.”
“Nothing at all, of course,” replied Poirot, smiling. “But we were speaking of the arrest of Dr. Bauerstein.”
“Well, he is arrested for the murder of Mrs. Inglethorp—”
“What?” cried Poirot, in apparently lively astonishment. “ Dr. Bauerstein arrested for the murder of Mrs. Inglethorp?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible! That would be too good a farce! Who told you that, my friend?”
“Well, no one exactly told me,” I confessed. “But he is arrested.”
“Oh, yes, very likely. But for espionage, mon ami .”
“Espionage?” I gasped.