"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.
"You are in error," he said at last. "You have still one patient to see."
"Not you?" I exclaimed in surprise.
"Ah, not me, bien entendu. Me, I have the health magnificent. No, to tell you the truth, it is a little complot of mine. There is some one I wish to see, you understand—and at the same time it is not necessary that the whole village should intrigue itself about the matter—which is what would happen if the lady were seen to
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