Inglethorp," said the Coroner sharply.
"Think again."
Inglethorp shook his head.
"I cannot tell you. I have an idea that I was out walking."
"In what direction?"
"I really can't remember."
The Coroner's face grew graver.
"Were you in company with anyone?"
"No."
"Did you meet anyone on your walk?"
"No."
"That is a pity," said the Coroner dryly. "I am to take it then
that you decline to say where you were at the time that Mr. Mace
positively recognized you as entering the shop to purchase
strychnine?"
"If you like to take it that way, yes."
"Be careful, Mr. Inglethorp."
Poirot was fidgeting nervously.
"Sacre!" he murmured. "Does this imbecile of a man _want_ to be
arrested?"
Inglethorp was indeed creating a bad impression. His futile
denials would not have convinced a child. The Coroner, however,
passed briskly to the next point, and Poirot drew a deep breath
of relief.
"You had a discussion with your wife on Tuesday afternoon?"
"Pardon me," interrupted Alfred Inglethorp, "you have been
misinformed.
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