Chapter IX. Dr. Bauerstein

           IhadhadnoopportunityasyetofpassingonPoirot’smessagetoLawrence.Butnow,asIstrolledoutonthelawn,stillnursingagrudgeagainstmyfriend’shigh-handedness,IsawLawrenceonthecroquetlawn,aimlesslyknockingacoupleofveryancientballsabout,withastillmoreancientmallet.

           Itstruckmethatitwouldbeagoodopportunitytodelivermymessage.Otherwise,Poirothimselfmightrelievemeofit.ItwastruethatIdidnotquitegatheritspurport,butIflatteredmyselfthatbyLawrence’sreply,andperhapsalittleskillfulcross-examinationonmypart,Ishouldsoonperceiveitssignificance.AccordinglyIaccostedhim.

           “I’vebeenlookingforyou,”Iremarkeduntruthfully.

           “Haveyou?”

           “Yes.Thetruthis,I’vegotamessageforyou—fromPoirot.”

           “Yes?”

           “HetoldmetowaituntilIwasalonewithyou,”Isaid,droppingmyvoicesignificantly,andwatchinghimintentlyoutofthecornerofmyeye.Ihavealwaysbeenrathergoodatwhatiscalled,Ibelieve,creatinganatmosphere.

           “Well?”

           Therewasnochangeofexpressioninthedarkmelancholicface.HadheanyideaofwhatIwasabouttosay?

           “Thisisthemessage.”Idroppedmyvoicestilllower.“‘Findtheextracoffee-cup,andyoucanrestinpeace.’”

           “Whatonearthdoeshemean?”Lawrencestaredatmeinquiteunaffectedastonishment.

           “Don’tyouknow?”

           “Notintheleast.Doyou?”

           Iwascompelledtoshakemyhead.

           “Whatextracoffee-cup?”

           “Idon’tknow.