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Our
eyes
met
,
and
we
stared
helplessly
at
one
another
.
“
What
can
be
the
matter
?
”
I
shook
my
head
.
“
I
don
’
t
know
.
He
was
building
card
houses
,
when
suddenly
he
said
he
had
an
idea
,
and
rushed
off
as
you
saw
.
”
“
Well
,
”
said
Mary
,
“
I
expect
he
will
be
back
before
dinner
.
”
But
night
fell
,
and
Poirot
had
not
returned
.
Poirot
’
s
abrupt
departure
had
intrigued
us
all
greatly
.
Sunday
morning
wore
away
,
and
still
he
did
not
reappear
.
But
about
three
o
’
clock
a
ferocious
and
prolonged
hooting
outside
drove
us
to
the
window
,
to
see
Poirot
alighting
from
a
car
,
accompanied
by
Japp
and
Summerhaye
.
The
little
man
was
transformed
.
He
radiated
an
absurd
complacency
.
He
bowed
with
exaggerated
respect
to
Mary
Cavendish
.
“
Madame
,
I
have
your
permission
to
hold
a
little
réunion
in
the
salon
?
It
is
necessary
for
everyone
to
attend
.
”
Mary
smiled
sadly
.
“
You
know
,
Monsieur
Poirot
,
that
you
have
carte
blanche
in
every
way
.
”
