And I know the next thing you're going to say is:
'How many people have you poisoned?'"
I pleaded guilty with a laugh.
"If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison some one by mistake, you wouldn't joke about it.
Come on, let's have tea.
We've got all sorts of secret stories in that cupboard.
No, Lawrence—that's the poison cupboard.
The big cupboard—that's right."
We had a very cheery tea, and assisted Cynthia to wash up afterwards.
We had just put away the last tea-spoon when a knock came at the door.
The countenances of Cynthia and Nibs were suddenly petrified into a stern and forbidding expression.
"Come in," said Cynthia, in a sharp professional tone.
A young and rather scared looking nurse appeared with a bottle which she proffered to Nibs, who waved her towards Cynthia with the somewhat enigmatical remark:
"I'm not really here to-day."
Cynthia took the bottle and examined it with the severity of a judge.
"This should have been sent up this morning."
"Sister is very sorry. She forgot."
"Sister should read the rules outside the door."
I gathered from the little nurse's expression that there was not the least likelihood of her having the hardihood to retail this message to the dreaded "Sister".
"So now it can't be done until to-morrow," finished Cynthia.
"Don't you think you could possibly let us have it to-night?"
"Well," said Cynthia graciously, "we are very busy, but if we have time it shall be done."
The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia promptly took a jar from the shelf, refilled the bottle, and placed it on the table outside the door.
I laughed.
"Discipline must be maintained?"
"Exactly.
Come out on our little balcony. You can see all the outside wards there."
I followed Cynthia and her friend and they pointed out the different wards to me.
Lawrence remained behind, but after a few moments Cynthia called to him over her shoulder to come and join us. Then she looked at her watch.
"Nothing more to do, Nibs?"
"No."
"All right. Then we can lock up and go."
I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon.
Compared to John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to get to know.
He was the opposite of his brother in almost every respect, being unusually shy and reserved.
Yet he had a certain charm of manner, and I fancied that, if one really knew him well, one could have a deep affection for him.
I had always fancied that his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained, and that she on her side was inclined to be shy of him.
But they were both gay enough this afternoon, and chatted together like a couple of children.
As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps, so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.
As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering. I drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, he clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly.
"Mon ami Hastings!" he cried. "It is indeed mon ami Hastings!"
"Poirot!" I exclaimed.
I turned to the pony-trap.
"This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This is my old friend, Monsieur Poirot, whom I have not seen for years."
"Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot," said Cynthia gaily. "But I had no idea he was a friend of yours."
"Yes, indeed," said Poirot seriously. "I know Mademoiselle Cynthia.
It is by the charity of that good Mrs. Inglethorp that I am here."
Then, as I looked at him inquiringly:
"Yes, my friend, she had kindly extended hospitality to seven of my countrypeople who, alas, are refugees from their native land.
We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude."