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"Pardon me, madame, for recalling unpleasant memories, but I have a little
idea"--Poirot's "little ideas" were becoming a perfect byword--"and would like
to ask one or two questions."
"Of me? Certainly."
"You are too amiable, madame. What I want to ask is this: the door leading
into Mrs. Inglethorp's room from that of Mademoiselle Cynthia, it was
bolted, you say?"
"Certainly it was bolted," replied Mary Cavendish, rather surprised. "I said
so at the inquest."
"
"
"
Bolted?"
Yes." She looked perplexed.
I mean," explained Poirot, "you are sure it was bolted, and not merely
locked?"
"Oh, I see what you mean. No, I don't know. I said bolted, meaning that it
was fastened, and I could not open it, but I believe all the doors were found
bolted on the inside."
"Still, as far as you are concerned, the door might equally well have been
locked?"
"
"
Oh, yes."
You yourself did not happen to notice, madame, when you entered Mrs.
Inglethorp's room, whether that door was bolted or not?"
"
"
"
"
I--I believe it was."
But you did not see it?"
No. I--never looked."
But I did," interrupted Lawrence suddenly. "I happened to notice that it was
bolted."
"Ah, that settles it." And Poirot looked crestfallen.
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