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bought strychnine at the chemist's shop. What of that? I dare say he soaked
fly paper, as I told you at the beginning."
"
That is arsenic--not strychnine," said Poirot mildly.
"
What does that matter? Arsenic would put poor Emily out of the way just
as well as strychnine. If I'm convinced he did it, it doesn't matter a jot to me
how he did it."
"
Exactly. If you are convinced he did it," said Poirot quietly. "I will put my
question in another form. Did you ever in your heart of hearts believe that
Mrs. Inglethorp was poisoned by her husband?"
"
Good heavens!" cried Miss Howard. "Haven't I always told you the man is a
villain? Haven't I always told you he would murder her in her bed? Haven't I
always hated him like poison?"
"
"
"
Exactly," said Poirot. "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
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