"That bears out my little idea
entirely."
"What little idea?"
"Miss Howard, do you remember a conversation that took place on
the day of my friend's arrival here? He repeated it to me, and
there is a sentence of yours that has impressed me very much. Do
you remember affirming that if a crime had been committed, and
anyone you loved had been murdered, you felt certain that you
would know by instinct who the criminal was, even if you were
quite unable to prove it?"
"Yes, I remember saying that. I believe it too. I suppose you
think it nonsense?"
"Not at all."
"And yet you will pay no attention to my instinct against Alfred
Inglethorp."
"No," said Poirot curtly. "Because your instinct is not against
Mr. Inglethorp."
"What?"
"No. You wish to believe he committed the crime. You believe
him capable of committing it. But your instinct tells you he did
not commit it. It tells you more--shall I go on?"
She was staring at him, fascinated, and made a slight affirmative
movement of the hand.
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