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“
Now
,
my
friend
,
”
said
Poirot
briskly
,
“
we
will
go
.
I
should
like
to
ask
a
few
questions
of
the
parlourmaid
—
Dorcas
,
her
name
is
,
is
it
not
?
”
We
passed
through
Alfred
Inglethorp
’
s
room
,
and
Poirot
delayed
long
enough
to
make
a
brief
but
fairly
comprehensive
examination
of
it
.
We
went
out
through
that
door
,
locking
both
it
and
that
of
Mrs
.
Inglethorp
’
s
room
as
before
.
I
took
him
down
to
the
boudoir
which
he
had
expressed
a
wish
to
see
,
and
went
myself
in
search
of
Dorcas
.
When
I
returned
with
her
,
however
,
the
boudoir
was
empty
.
“
Poirot
,
”
I
cried
,
“
where
are
you
?
”
“
I
am
here
,
my
friend
.
”
He
had
stepped
outside
the
French
window
,
and
was
standing
,
apparently
lost
in
admiration
,
before
the
various
shaped
flower
beds
.
“
Admirable
!
”
he
murmured
.
“
Admirable
!
What
symmetry
!
Observe
that
crescent
;
and
those
diamonds
—
their
neatness
rejoices
the
eye
.
The
spacing
of
the
plants
,
also
,
is
perfect
.
It
has
been
recently
done
;
is
it
not
so
?
”
“
Yes
,
I
believe
they
were
at
it
yesterday
afternoon
.
But
come
in
—
Dorcas
is
here
.
”
