The Mysterious Affair at Styles


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CHAPTER IV. POIROT INVESTIGATES  
The house which the Belgians occupied in the village was quite close to the  
park gates. One could save time by taking a narrow path through the long  
grass, which cut off the detours of the winding drive. So I, accordingly, went  
that way. I had nearly reached the lodge, when my attention was arrested by  
the running figure of a man approaching me. It was Mr. Inglethorp. Where  
had he been? How did he intend to explain his absence?  
He accosted me eagerly.  
"
"
"
My God! This is terrible! My poor wife! I have only just heard."  
Where have you been?" I asked.  
Denby kept me late last night. It was one o'clock before we'd finished. Then  
I found that I'd forgotten the latch-key after all. I didn't want to arouse the  
household, so Denby gave me a bed."  
"How did you hear the news?" I asked.  
"Wilkins knocked Denby up to tell him. My poor Emily! She was so self-  
sacrificing--such a noble character. She over-taxed her strength."  
A wave of revulsion swept over me. What a consummate hypocrite the man  
was!  
"I must hurry on," I said, thankful that he did not ask me whither I was  
bound.  
In a few minutes I was knocking at the door of Leastways Cottage.  
Getting no answer, I repeated my summons impatiently. A window above me  
was cautiously opened, and Poirot himself looked out.  
He gave an exclamation of surprise at seeing me. In a few brief words, I  
explained the tragedy that had occurred, and that I wanted his help.  
"
Wait, my friend, I will let you in, and you shall recount to me the affair  
whilst I dress."  
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