“Oh! there you are, James,” she said, with deep disapproval. “M. Poirot wants to see you.”
“Well,” I said, rather irritably, for her sudden entrance had startled me and I had let go of a piece of delicate mechanism, “if he wants to see me, he can come in here.”
“In here?” said Caroline.
“That’s what I said—in here.”
Caroline gave a sniff of disapproval and retired. She returned in a moment or two, ushering in Poirot, and then retired again, shutting the door with a bang.
“Aha! my friend,” said Poirot, coming forward and rubbing his hands. “You have not got rid of me so easily, you see!”
“Finished with the inspector?” I asked.
“For the moment, yes. And you, you have seen all the patients?”
“Yes.”
Poirot sat down and looked at me, tilting his egg-shaped head on one side, with the air of one who savors a very delicious joke.