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"
You recognize them beyond fail?"
Oh, yes; they are identical."
"
Poirot nodded, and gently taking the photographs from me locked them up
again.
"I suppose," I said, "that as usual, you are not going to explain?"
"On the contrary. No. 1 were the finger-prints of Monsieur Lawrence. No. 2
were those of Mademoiselle Cynthia. They are not important. I merely
obtained them for comparison. No. 3 is a little more complicated."
"Yes?"
"It is, as you see, highly magnified. You may have noticed a sort of blur
extending all across the picture. I will not describe to you the special
apparatus, dusting powder, etc., which I used. It is a well-known process to
the police, and by means of it you can obtain a photograph of the finger-
prints of any object in a very short space of time. Well, my friend, you have
seen the finger-marks--it remains to tell you the particular object on which
they had been left."
"
"
Go on--I am really excited."
Eh bien! Photo No. 3 represents the highly magnified surface of a tiny bottle
in the top poison cupboard of the dispensary in the Red Cross Hospital at
Tadminster--which sounds like the house that Jack built!"
"
Good heavens!" I exclaimed. "But what were Lawrence Cavendish's finger-
marks doing on it? He never went near the poison cupboard the day we were
there!"
"
"
Oh, yes, he did!"
Impossible! We were all together the whole time."
Poirot shook his head.
"No, my friend, there was a moment when you were not all together. There
was a moment when you could not have been all together, or it would not
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