about three o’clock
But night fell , and Poirot had not returned . Poirot 's abrupt departure had intrigued us all greatly . Sunday morning wore away , and still he did not reappear . But about three o'clock a ferocious and prolonged hooting outside drove us to the window , to see Poirot alighting from a car , accompanied by Japp and Summerhaye . The little man was transformed . He radiated an absurd complacency . He bowed with exaggerated respect to Mary Cavendish .