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Chapter X. The Arrest
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“ItdidnotstrikeyouaspeculiarthatafamousLondondoctorshouldburyhimselfinalittlevillagelikethis,andshouldbeinthehabitofwalkingaboutatallhoursofthenight,fullydressed?”
“No,”Iconfessed,“Ineverthoughtofsuchathing.”
“Heis,ofcourse,aGermanbybirth,”saidPoirotthoughtfully,“thoughhehaspractisedsolonginthiscountrythatnobodythinksofhimasanythingbutanEnglishman.Hewasnaturalizedaboutfifteenyearsago.Averycleverman—aJew,ofcourse.”
“Theblackguard!”Icriedindignantly.
“Notatall.Heis,onthecontrary,apatriot.Thinkwhathestandstolose.Iadmirethemanmyself.”
ButIcouldnotlookatitinPoirot’sphilosophicalway.
“AndthisisthemanwithwhomMrs.Cavendishhasbeenwanderingaboutalloverthecountry!”Icriedindignantly.
“Yes.Ishouldfancyhehadfoundherveryuseful,”remarkedPoirot.“Solongasgossipbusieditselfincouplingtheirnamestogether,anyothervagariesofthedoctor’spassedunobserved.”
“Thenyouthinkheneverreallycaredforher?”Iaskedeagerly—rathertooeagerly,perhaps,underthecircumstances.
“That,ofcourse,Icannotsay,but—shallItellyoumyownprivateopinion,Hastings?”
“Yes.”
“Well,itisthis:thatMrs.Cavendishdoesnotcare,andneverhascaredonelittlejotaboutDr.Bauerstein!”
“Doyoureallythinkso?”Icouldnotdisguisemypleasure.
“Iamquitesureofit.AndIwilltellyouwhy.”
“Yes?”
“Becauseshecaresforsomeoneelse,monami.
