www.freeclassicebooks.com

along. I don't say she wasn't surrounded by sharks--she was. But it was

only her purse they were after. Her life was safe enough. But along comes

Mr. Alfred Inglethorp--and within two months--hey presto!"

"Believe me, Miss Howard," said Poirot very earnestly, "if Mr. Inglethorp is

the man, he shall not escape me. On my honour, I will hang him as high as

Haman!"

That's better," said Miss Howard more enthusiastically.

"But I must ask you to trust me. Now your help may be very valuable to me.

I will tell you why. Because, in all this house of mourning, yours are the

only eyes that have wept."

Miss Howard blinked, and a new note crept into the gruffness of her voice.

"If you mean that I was fond of her--yes, I was. You know, Emily was a

selfish old woman in her way. She was very generous, but she always

wanted a return. She never let people forget what she had done for them--

and, that way she missed love. Don't think she ever realized it, though, or

felt the lack of it. Hope not, anyway. I was on a different footing. I took my

stand from the first. 'So many pounds a year I'm worth to you. Well and

good. But not a penny piece besides--not a pair of gloves, nor a theatre

ticket.' She didn't understand--was very offended sometimes. Said I was

foolishly proud. It wasn't that--but I couldn't explain. Anyway, I kept my

self-respect. And so, out of the whole bunch, I was the only one who could

allow myself to be fond of her. I watched over her. I guarded her from the lot

of them, and then a glib-tongued scoundrel comes along, and pooh! all my

years of devotion go for nothing."

Poirot nodded sympathetically.

"I understand, mademoiselle, I understand all you feel. It is most natural.

You think that we are lukewarm--that we lack fire and energy--but trust me,

it is not so."

John stuck his head in at this juncture, and invited us both to come up to

Mrs. Inglethorp's room, as he and Mr. Wells had finished looking through

the desk in the boudoir.

As we went up the stairs, John looked back to the dining-room door, and

lowered his voice confidentially:

The Mysterious Affair at Styles