Inglethorp had
requested. She had accordingly gone downstairs again to rectify
her error. Hearing a slight noise in the West wing, she had
peeped along the passage, and had seen Mr. John Cavendish
knocking at Mrs. Inglethorp's door.
Sir Ernest Heavywether made short work of her, and under his
unmerciful bullying she contradicted herself hopelessly, and Sir
Ernest sat down again with a satisfied smile on his face.
With the evidence of Annie, as to the candle grease on the floor,
and as to seeing the prisoner take the coffee into the boudoir,
the proceedings were adjourned until the following day.
As we went home, Mary Cavendish spoke bitterly against the
prosecuting counsel.
"That hateful man! What a net he has drawn around my poor John!
How he twisted every little fact until he made it seem what it
wasn't!"
"Well," I said consolingly, "it will be the other way about
to-morrow."
"Yes," she said meditatively; then suddenly dropped her voice.
"Mr. Hastings, you do not think--surely it could not have been
Lawrence--Oh, no, that could not be!"
But I myself was puzzled, and as soon as I was alone with Poirot
I asked him what he thought Sir Ernest was driving at.
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