Mary looked up at him, the colour slowly rising
in her face.
"All you have said is quite true, Monsieur Poirot. It was the
most awful hour of my life. I shall never forget it. But you
are wonderful. I understand now----"
"What I meant when I told you that you could safely confess to
Papa Poirot, eh? But you would not trust me."
"I see everything now," said Lawrence. "The drugged coco, taken
on top of the poisoned coffee, amply accounts for the delay."
"Exactly. But was the coffee poisoned, or was it not? We come to
a little difficulty here, since Mrs. Inglethorp never drank it."
"What?" The cry of surprise was universal.
"No. You will remember my speaking of a stain on the carpet in
Mrs. Inglethorp's room? There were some peculiar points about
that stain. It was still damp, it exhaled a strong odour of
coffee, and imbedded in the nap of the carpet I found some little
splinters of china. What had happened was plain to me, for not
two minutes before I had placed my little case on the table near
the window, and the table, tilting up, had deposited it upon the
floor on precisely the identical spot.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292