The Mysterious Affair at Styles


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"
Not that I know of."  
Do you not think that it bears a marked resemblance to your own hand-  
"
writing--carelessly disguised?"  
"
"
"
"
No, I do not think so."  
I put it to you that it is your own hand-writing!"  
No."  
I put it to you that, anxious to prove an alibi, you conceived the idea of a  
fictitious and rather incredible appointment, and wrote this note yourself in  
order to bear out your statement!"  
"No."  
"Is it not a fact that, at the time you claim to have been waiting about at a  
solitary and unfrequented spot, you were really in the chemist's shop in  
Styles St. Mary, where you purchased strychnine in the name of Alfred  
Inglethorp?"  
"No, that is a lie."  
"I put it to you that, wearing a suit of Mr. Inglethorp's clothes, with a black  
beard trimmed to resemble his, you were there--and signed the register in  
his name!"  
"That is absolutely untrue."  
"Then I will leave the remarkable similarity of hand-writing between the  
note, the register, and your own, to the consideration of the jury," said Mr.  
Philips, and sat down with the air of a man who has done his duty, but who  
was nevertheless horrified by such deliberate perjury.  
After this, as it was growing late, the case was adjourned till Monday.  
Poirot, I noticed, was looking profoundly discouraged. He had that little  
frown between the eyes that I knew so well.  
"
What is it, Poirot?" I inquired.  
175  


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