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Poirot
was
sobered
at
once
.
“
Come
,
come
,
my
friend
,
”
he
said
,
slipping
his
arms
through
mine
.
“
Ne
vous
fâchez
pas
!
Allow
me
to
interest
myself
in
my
coffee
-
cups
,
and
I
will
respect
your
cocoa
.
There
!
Is
it
a
bargain
?
”
He
was
so
quaintly
humorous
that
I
was
forced
to
laugh
;
and
we
went
together
to
the
drawing
-
room
,
where
the
coffee
-
cups
and
tray
remained
undisturbed
as
we
had
left
them
.
Poirot
made
me
recapitulate
the
scene
of
the
night
before
,
listening
very
carefully
,
and
verifying
the
position
of
the
various
cups
.
“
So
Mrs
.
Cavendish
stood
by
the
tray
—
and
poured
out
.
Yes
.
Then
she
came
across
to
the
window
where
you
sat
with
Mademoiselle
Cynthia
.
Yes
.
Here
are
the
three
cups
.
And
the
cup
on
the
mantelpiece
,
half
drunk
,
that
would
be
Mr
.
Lawrence
Cavendish
’
s
.
And
the
one
on
the
tray
?
”
“
John
Cavendish
’
s
.
I
saw
him
put
it
down
there
.
”
“
Good
.
One
,
two
,
three
,
four
,
five
—
but
where
,
then
,
is
the
cup
of
Mr
.
Inglethorp
?
”
“
He
does
not
take
coffee
.
”
“
Then
all
are
accounted
for
.
One
moment
,
my
friend
.
”
With
infinite
care
,
he
took
a
drop
or
two
from
the
grounds
in
each
cup
,
sealing
them
up
in
separate
test
tubes
,
tasting
each
in
turn
as
he
did
so
.
His
physiognomy
underwent
a
curious
change
.
An
expression
gathered
there
that
I
can
only
describe
as
half
puzzled
,
and
half
relieved
.
