atural causes. If it had
been Monsieur John, I could have understood it. He has no technical
knowledge, and is by nature unimaginative. But Monsieur Lawrence--no!
And now, to-day, he puts forward a suggestion that he himself must have
known was ridiculous. There is food for thought in this, mon ami!"

"It's very confusing," I agreed.

"Then there is Mrs. Cavendish," continued Poirot. "That's another who is
not telling all she knows! What do you make of her attitude?"

"I don't know what to make of it. It seems inconceivable that she should
be shielding Alfred Inglethorp. Yet that is what it looks like."

Poirot nodded reflectively.

"Yes, it is queer. One thing is certain, she overheard a good deal more
of that 'private conversation' than she was willing to admit."

"And yet she is the last person one would accuse of stooping to
eavesdrop!"

"Exactly. One thing her evidence _has_ shown me. I made a mistake.
Dorcas was quite right. The quarrel did take place earlier in the
afternoon, about four o'clock, as she said."

I looked at him curiously. I had never understood his insistence on that
point.

"Yes, a good deal that was peculiar came out to-day," continued Poirot.
"Dr. Bauerstein, now, what was _he_ doing up and dressed at that hour in
the morning? It is astonishing to me that no one commented on the fact."

"He has insomnia, I believe," I said doubtfully.

"Which is a very good, or a very bad explanation," remarked Poirot.
"It covers everything, and explains nothing. I shall keep my eye on our
clever Dr. Bauerstein."

"Any more faults to find with the evidence?" I inquired satirically.

"Mon ami," replied Poirot gravely, "when you find that people are not
telling you the truth--look out! Now, unless I am much mistaken, at the
inquest to-day only one--at most, two persons were speaking the truth
without reservation or subterfuge."

"Oh, come now, Poirot! I won't cite Lawrence, or Mrs. Cavendish. But
there's John--and Miss Howard, surely they were speaking the truth?"

"Both of them, my friend? One, I grant you, but both----!"

His words gave me an unpleasant shock. Miss Howard's evidence,
unimportant as it was, had been given in such a downright
straightforward manner that it had never occurred to me to doubt her
sincerity. Still, I had a great respect for Poirot's sagacity--except
on the occasions when he was what I described to myself as "foolishly
pig-headed."

"Do you really think so?" I aske