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nothing to offend the eye."
"
"
"
"
Poirot," I asked earnestly, "have you made up your mind about this crime?"
Yes--that is to say, I believe I know how it was committed."
Ah!"
Unfortunately, I have no proof beyond my surmise, unless----" With sudden
energy, he caught me by the arm, and whirled me down the hall, calling out
in French in his excitement: "Mademoiselle Dorcas, Mademoiselle Dorcas,
un moment, s'il vous plait!"
Dorcas, quite flurried by the noise, came hurrying out of the pantry.
"My good Dorcas, I have an idea--a little idea--if it should prove justified,
what magnificent chance! Tell me, on Monday, not Tuesday, Dorcas, but
Monday, the day before the tragedy, did anything go wrong with Mrs.
Inglethorp's bell?"
Dorcas looked very surprised.
"Yes, sir, now you mention it, it did; though I don't know how you came to
hear of it. A mouse, or some such, must have nibbled the wire through. The
man came and put it right on Tuesday morning."
With a long drawn exclamation of ecstasy, Poirot led the way back to the
morning-room.
"See you, one should not ask for outside proof--no, reason should be
enough. But the flesh is weak, it is consolation to find that one is on the
right track. Ah, my friend, I am like a giant refreshed. I run! I leap!"
And, in very truth, run and leap he did, gambolling wildly down the stretch
of lawn outside the long window.
"What is your remarkable little friend doing?" asked a voice behind me, and I
turned to find Mary Cavendish at my elbow. She smiled, and so did I. "What
is it all about?"
"Really, I can't tell you. He asked Dorcas some question about a bell, and
appeared so delighted with her answer that he is capering about as you see!"
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