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Poirot pronounced his name.
Mr. Inglethorp," said Poirot, addressing him directly, "a very dark shadow is
"
resting on this house--the shadow of murder."
Inglethorp shook his head sadly.
"My poor wife," he murmured. "Poor Emily! It is terrible."
"I do not think, monsieur," said Poirot pointedly, "that you quite realize how
terrible it may be--for you." And as Inglethorp did not appear to understand,
he added: "Mr. Inglethorp, you are standing in very grave danger."
The two detectives fidgeted. I saw the official caution "Anything you say will
be used in evidence against you," actually hovering on Summerhaye's lips.
Poirot went on.
"
"
"
Do you understand now, monsieur?"
No; What do you mean?"
I mean," said Poirot deliberately, "that you are suspected of poisoning your
wife."
A little gasp ran round the circle at this plain speaking.
"Good heavens!" cried Inglethorp, starting up. "What a monstrous idea! I--
poison my dearest Emily!"
"I do not think"--Poirot watched him narrowly--"that you quite realize the
unfavourable nature of your evidence at the inquest. Mr. Inglethorp,
knowing what I have now told you, do you still refuse to say where you were
at six o'clock on Monday afternoon?"
With a groan, Alfred Inglethorp sank down again and buried his face in his
hands. Poirot approached and stood over him.
"Speak!" he cried menacingly.
With an effort, Inglethorp raised his face from his hands. Then, slowly and
deliberately, he shook his head.
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