“Might get the girl into trouble,” said Caroline sapiently. “But if M.

 

Poirot gets hold of her, and puts it to her as her duty, she’ll come forward of

her own accord and clear Ralph.”

 

“You seem to have invented a romantic fairy story of your own,” I said. “You

read too many trashy novels, Caroline. I’ve always told you so.”

 

I dropped into my chair again.

 

“Did Poirot ask you any more questions?” I inquired.

 

“Only about the patients you had that morning.”

 

“The patients?” I demanded, unbelievingly.

 

“Yes, your surgery patients. How many and who they were?”

 

“Do you mean to say you were able to tell him that?” I demanded.

 

Caroline is really amazing.

 

“Why not?” asked my sister triumphantly. “I can see the path up to the surgery

door perfectly from this window. And I’ve got an excellent memory, James. Much