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him. He may be seen leaving the room--he may be searched. If the paper is
found on him, it is certain doom. Probably, at this minute, too, he hears the
sounds below of Mr. Wells and John leaving the boudoir. He must act
quickly. Where can he hide this terrible slip of paper? The contents of the
waste-paper-basket are kept and in any case, are sure to be examined.
There are no means of destroying it; and he dare not keep it. He looks
round, and he sees--what do you think, mon ami?"
I shook my head.
"In a moment, he has torn the letter into long thin strips, and rolling them
up into spills he thrusts them hurriedly in amongst the other spills in the
vase on the mantle-piece."
I uttered an exclamation.
"No one would think of looking there," Poirot continued. "And he will be able,
at his leisure, to come back and destroy this solitary piece of evidence
against him."
"
Then, all the time, it was in the spill vase in Mrs. Inglethorp's bedroom,
under our very noses?" I cried.
Poirot nodded.
"Yes, my friend. That is where I discovered my 'last link,' and I owe that very
fortunate discovery to you."
"
"
To me?"
Yes. Do you remember telling me that my hand shook as I was
straightening the ornaments on the mantel-piece?"
"Yes, but I don't see----"
"No, but I saw. Do you know, my friend, I remembered that earlier in the
morning, when we had been there together, I had straightened all the
objects on the mantel-piece. And, if they were already straightened, there
would be no need to straighten them again, unless, in the meantime, some
one else had touched them."
"
Dear me," I murmured, "so that is the explanation of your extraordinary
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