Imagination is a
good servant, and a bad master. The simplest explanation is
always the most likely."
"Another point--how did you know that the key of the
despatch-case had been lost?"
"I did not know it. It was a guess that turned out to be
correct. You observed that it had a piece of twisted wire
through the handle. That suggested to me at once that it had
possibly been wrenched off a flimsy key-ring. Now, if it had
been lost and recovered, Mrs. Inglethorp would at once have
replaced it on her bunch; but on her bunch I found what was
obviously the duplicate key, very new and bright, which led me to
the hypothesis that somebody else had inserted the original key
in the lock of the despatch-case."
"Yes," I said, "Alfred Inglethorp, without doubt."
Poirot looked at me curiously.
"You are very sure of his guilt?"
"Well, naturally. Every fresh circumstance seems to establish it
more clearly."
"On the contrary," said Poirot quietly, "there are several points
in his favour."
"Oh, come now!"
"Yes.
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