"Impossible!"
"Not at all. I myself nearly had the same idea. It was in my
mind when I asked Mr. Wells that first question about the will.
Then there were the bromide powders which she had made up, and
her clever male impersonations, as Dorcas recounted them to us.
There was really more evidence against her than anyone else."
"You are joking, Poirot!"
"No. Shall I tell you what made Monsieur Lawrence turn so pale
when he first entered his mother's room on the fatal night? It
was because, whilst his mother lay there, obviously poisoned, he
saw, over your shoulder, that the door into Mademoiselle
Cynthia's room was unbolted."
"But he declared that he saw it bolted!" I cried.
"Exactly," said Poirot dryly. "And that was just what confirmed
my suspicion that it was not. He was shielding Mademoiselle
Cynthia."
"But why should he shield her?"
"Because he is in love with her."
I laughed.
"There, Poirot, you are quite wrong! I happen to know for a fact
that, far from being in love with her, he positively dislikes
her.
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