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Chapter IX. Dr. Bauerstein
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“Youaretooamiable,madame.WhatIwanttoaskisthis:thedoorleadingintoMrs.Inglethorp’sroomfromthatofMademoiselleCynthia,itwasbolted,yousay?”
“Certainlyitwasbolted,”repliedMaryCavendish,rathersurprised.“Isaidsoattheinquest.”
“Bolted?”
“Yes.”Shelookedperplexed.
“Imean,”explainedPoirot,“youaresureitwasbolted,andnotmerelylocked?”
“Oh,Iseewhatyoumean.No,Idon’tknow.Isaidbolted,meaningthatitwasfastened,andIcouldnotopenit,butIbelieveallthedoorswerefoundboltedontheinside.”
“Still,asfarasyouareconcerned,thedoormightequallywellhavebeenlocked?”
“Oh,yes.”
“Youyourselfdidnothappentonotice,madame,whenyouenteredMrs.Inglethorp’sroom,whetherthatdoorwasboltedornot?”
“I—Ibelieveitwas.”
“Butyoudidnotseeit?”
“No.I—neverlooked.”
“ButIdid,”interruptedLawrencesuddenly.“Ihappenedtonoticethatitwasbolted.”
“Ah,thatsettlesit.”AndPoirotlookedcrestfallen.
Icouldnothelprejoicingthat,foronce,oneofhis“littleideas”hadcometonaught.
AfterlunchPoirotbeggedmetoaccompanyhimhome.Iconsentedratherstiffly.
“Youareannoyed,isitnotso?”heaskedanxiously,aswewalkedthroughthepark.
“Notatall,”Isaidcoldly.
“Thatiswell.Thatliftsagreatloadfrommymind.”
ThiswasnotquitewhatIhadintended.Ihadhopedthathewouldhaveobservedthestiffnessofmymanner.