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We
got
the
lad
to
the
Villa
,
where
he
dropped
limply
on
to
a
chair
in
a
semi
-
dazed
condition
.
Poirot
felt
his
head
and
hands
.
“
He
has
fever
.
The
long
strain
begins
to
tell
.
And
now
this
shock
on
top
of
it
.
Get
him
to
bed
,
and
Hastings
and
I
will
summon
a
doctor
.
”
A
doctor
was
soon
procured
.
After
examining
the
patient
,
he
gave
it
as
his
opinion
that
it
was
simply
a
case
of
nerve
strain
.
With
perfect
rest
and
quiet
,
the
lad
might
be
almost
restored
by
the
next
day
,
but
,
if
excited
,
there
was
a
chance
of
brain
fever
.
It
would
be
advisable
for
some
one
to
sit
up
all
night
with
him
.
Finally
,
having
done
all
we
could
,
we
left
him
in
the
charge
of
Marthe
and
her
mother
,
and
set
out
for
the
town
.
It
was
past
our
usual
hour
of
dining
,
and
we
were
both
famished
.
The
first
restaurant
we
came
to
assuaged
the
pangs
of
hunger
with
an
excellent
omelette
,
and
an
equally
excellent
entrecôte
to
follow
.
“
And
now
for
quarters
for
the
night
,
”
said
Poirot
,
when
at
length
café
noir
had
completed
the
meal
.
“
Shall
we
try
our
old
friend
,
the
Hôtel
des
Bains
?
”
We
traced
our
steps
there
without
more
ado
.
Yes
,
Messieurs
could
be
accommodated
with
two
good
rooms
overlooking
the
sea
.
Then
Poirot
asked
a
question
which
surprised
me
.
“
Has
an
English
lady
,
Miss
Robinson
,
arrived
?
”
“
Yes
,
monsieur
.
She
is
in
the
little
salon
.
”
“
Ah
!
”
