"I want to be able to count upon your help."
"I'll help you to hang Alfred with pleasure," she replied
gruffly. "Hanging's too good for him. Ought to be drawn and
quartered, like in good old times."
"We are at one then," said Poirot, "for I, too, want to hang the
criminal."
"Alfred Inglethorp?"
"Him, or another."
"No question of another. Poor Emily was never murdered until _he_
came along. I don't say she wasn't surrounded by sharks--she
was. But it was only her purse they were after. Her life was
safe enough. But along comes Mr. Alfred Inglethorp--and within
two months--hey presto!"
"Believe me, Miss Howard," said Poirot very earnestly, "if Mr.
Inglethorp is the man, he shall not escape me. On my honour, I
will hang him as high as Haman!"
"That's better," said Miss Howard more enthusiastically.
"But I must ask you to trust me. Now your help may be very
valuable to me. I will tell you why. Because, in all this house
of mourning, yours are the only eyes that have wept."
Miss Howard blinked, and a new note crept into the gruffness of
her voice.
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