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"
But it was a glorious day!" I interrupted. "Poirot, you're pulling my leg!"
Not at all. The thermometer registered 80 degrees in the shade. Do not
"
forget that, my friend. It is the key to the whole riddle!"
"And the second point?" I asked.
"
The important fact that Monsieur Inglethorp wears very peculiar clothes,
has a black beard, and uses glasses."
"
"
"
"
"
Poirot, I cannot believe you are serious."
I am absolutely serious, my friend."
But this is childish!"
No, it is very momentous."
And supposing the Coroner's jury returns a verdict of Wilful Murder against
Alfred Inglethorp. What becomes of your theories, then?"
"
They would not be shaken because twelve stupid men had happened to
make a mistake! But that will not occur. For one thing, a country jury is not
anxious to take responsibility upon itself, and Mr. Inglethorp stands
practically in the position of local squire. Also," he added placidly, "I should
not allow it!"
"
You would not allow it?"
No."
"
I looked at the extraordinary little man, divided between annoyance and
amusement. He was so tremendously sure of himself. As though he read my
thoughts, he nodded gently.
"Oh, yes, mon ami, I would do what I say." He got up and laid his hand on
my shoulder. His physiognomy underwent a complete change. Tears came
into his eyes. "In all this, you see, I think of that poor Mrs. Inglethorp who is
dead. She was not extravagantly loved--no. But she was very good to us
Belgians--I owe her a debt."
I endeavoured to interrupt, but Poirot swept on.
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