I am sorry to relate that as the door closed behind Franklin Clarke I
laughed hysterically.
Poirot looked at me in mild surprise.
"It's because you told him his crime was not sporting，"I gasped.
"It was quite true.It was abominable-not so much the murder of his
brother-but the cruelty that condemned an unfortunate man to a living
death.To catch a fox and put him in a box and never let him go!That is not
le sport!"
Megan Barnard gave a deep sigh.
"I can't believe it-I can't.Is it true?"
"Yes，mademoiselle.The nightmare is over."
She looked at him and her colour deepened.
Poirot turned to Fraser.
"A Mademoiselle Megan，all along，was haunted by a fear that it was you
who had committed the second crime."
Donald Fraser said quietly:
"I fancied so myself at one time."
"Because of your dream?"He drew a little nearer to the young man and
dropped his voice confidentially."Your dream has a very natural
explanation.It is that you find that already the image of one sister fades
in your memory and that its place is taken by the other sister.
Mademoiselle Megan replaces her sister in your heart，but since you
cannot bear to think of yourself being unfaithful so soon to the dead，you
strive to stifle the thought，to kill it!That is the explanation of the
dream."
Fraser's eyes went towards Megan.
"Do not be afraid to forget，"said Poirot gently."She was not so well
worth remembering.In Mademoiselle Megan you have one in a hundred-un coeur
magnifique!"
Donald Fraser's eyes lit up.
"I believe you are right."
We all crowded round Poirot asking questions，elucidating this point and
that.
"Those questions，Poirot?That you asked of everybody.Was there any point
in them?"
"Some of them were simplement une blague.But I learnt one thing that I
wanted to know-that Franklin Clarke was in London when the first letter was
posted-and also I wanted to see his face when I asked my question of
Mademoiselle Thora.He was off his guard.I saw all the malice and anger in
his eyes."
"You hardly spared my feelings，"said Thora Grey.
"I do not fancy you returned me a truthful answer，mademoiselle，"said
Poirot dryly."And now your second expectation is disappointed.Franklin
Clarke will not inherit his brother's money."
She flung up her head.
"Is there any need for me to stay here and be insulted?"
"None whatever，"said Poirot and held the door open politely for her.
"That fingerprint clinched things，Poirot，"I said thoughtfully."He went
all to pieces when you mentioned that."
"Yes，they are useful-fingerprints."
He added thoughtfully:
"I put that in to please you，my friend."
"But，Poirot，"I cried，"wasn't it true?"
"Not in the least，mon ami，"said Hercule Poirot.
I must mention a visit we had from Mr Alexander Bonaparte Cust a few
days later.After wringing Poirot's hand and endeavouring very incoherently
and unsuccessfully to thank him，Mr Cust drew himself up and said:
"Do you know，a newspaper has actually offered me a hundred pounds-a
hundred pounds-for a brief account of my life and history-I-I really don't
know what to do about it."
"I should not accept a hundred，"said Poirot."Be firm.Say five hundred
is your price.And do not confine yourself to one newspaper."
"Do you really think-that I might-""You must realize，"said Poirot，
smiling，"that you are a very famous man.Practically the most famous man in
England today."
Mr Cust drew himself up still further.A beam of delight irradiated his
face.
"Do you know，I believe you're right!Famous!In all the papers.I shall
take your advice，M.Poirot.The money will be most agreeable-most agreeable.I
shall have a little holiday......And then I want to give a nice wedding
present to Lily Marbury-a dear girl-really a dear girl，M.Poirot."
Poirot patted him encouragingly on the shoulder.
"You are quite right.Enjoy yourself.And-just a little word-what about a
bisit to an oculist?Those headaches，it is probably that you want new
glasses."
"You think that it may have been that all the time?"
"I do."
Mr Cust shook him warmly by the hand.
"You're a very great man，MPoirot."
Poirot，as usual，did not distain the compliment.He did not even succeed
in looking modest.
When Mr Cust had strutted importantly out，my old friend smiled across
at me.
"So，Hastings-we went hunting once more，did we not?Vive le sport."
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