Japp's face grew grave, though Summerhaye gave an incredulous
snort.
As for me, I was literally dumb with astonishment. I could only
conclude that Poirot was mad.
Japp had taken out a handkerchief, and was gently dabbing his
brow.
"I daren't do it, Mr. Poirot. I'd take your word, but there's
others over me who'll be asking what the devil I mean by it.
Can't you give me a little more to go on?"
Poirot reflected a moment.
"It can be done," he said at last. "I admit I do not wish it.
It forces my hand. I would have preferred to work in the dark
just for the present, but what you say is very just--the word of
a Belgian policeman, whose day is past, is not enough! And Alfred
Inglethorp must not be arrested. That I have sworn, as my friend
Hastings here knows. See, then, my good Japp, you go at once to
Styles?"
"Well, in about half an hour. We're seeing the Coroner and the
doctor first."
"Good. Call for me in passing--the last house in the village. I
will go with you. At Styles, Mr.
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