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THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MR. DAVENHEIM
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Poirot's plate. He opened it, and a five-pound note fluttered out. My friend's brow puckered.
"Ah, sacré! But what shall I do with it? I have much remorse! Ce pauvre Japp! Ah, an idea! We will have a little dinner, we three! That consoles me. It was really too easy. I am ashamed. I, who would not rob a child—mille tonnerres! Mon ami, what have you, that you laugh so heartily?"
