to you." He had stood aside, and as I went out I had seen the ` ` look in Mary's eyes, as John Cavendish had caught his wife in his ` ` arms. ` ` ` ` "Perhaps you are right, Poirot," I said gently. "Yes, it is the ` ` greatest thing in the world." ` ` ` ` Suddenly, there was a tap at the door, and Cynthia peeped in. ` ` ` ` "I--I only----" ` ` ` ` "Come in," I said, springing up. ` ` ` ` She came in, but did not sit down. ` ` ` ` "I--only wanted to tell you something----" ` ` ` ` "Yes?" ` ` ` ` Cynthia fidgeted with a little tassel for some moments, then, ` ` suddenly exclaiming: "You dears!" kissed first me and then ` ` Poirot, and rushed out of the room again. ` ` ` ` "What on earth does this mean?" I asked, surprised. ` ` ` ` It was very nice to be kissed by Cynthia, but the publicity of ` ` the salute rather impaired the pleasure. ` ` ` ` "It means that she has discovered Monsieur Lawrence does not ` ` dislike her as much as she thought," replied Poirot ` ` philosophically. ` ` ` ` "But----" ` ` ` ` "Here he is." ` ` ` ` Lawrence at that moment passed the door. ` ` ` ` "Eh! Monsieur Lawrence," called Poirot. "We must congratulate ` ` you, is it not so?" ` ` ` ` Lawrence blushed, and then smiled awkwardly. A man in love is a ` ` sorry spectacle. Now Cynthia had looked charming. ` ` ` ` I sighed. ` ` ` ` "What is it, mon ami?" ` ` ` ` "Nothing," I said sadly. "They are two delightful women!" ` ` ` ` "And neither of them is for you?" finished Poirot. "Never mind. ` ` Console yourself, my friend. We may hunt together again, who ` ` knows? And then----" ` ` ` ` ` ` THE END ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `