to be pursuing him, the criminal would be off his guard. Now, he will
be doubly careful. Yes--doubly careful." He turned to me abruptly. "Tell
me, Hastings, you yourself--have you no suspicions of anybody?"

I hesitated. To tell the truth, an idea, wild and extravagant in itself,
had once or twice that morning flashed through my brain. I had rejected
it as absurd, nevertheless it persisted.

"You couldn't call it a suspicion," I murmured. "It's so utterly
foolish."

"Come now," urged Poirot encouragingly. "Do not fear. Speak your mind.
You should always pay attention to your instincts."

"Well then," I blurted out, "it's absurd--but I suspect Miss Howard of
not telling all she knows!"

"Miss Howard?"

"Yes--you'll laugh at me----"

"Not at all. Why should I?"

"I can't help feeling," I continued blunderingly; "that we've rather
left her out of the possible suspects, simply on the strength of her
having been away from the place. But, after all, she was only fifteen
miles away. A car would do it in half an hour. Can we say positively
that she was away from Styles on the night of the murder?"

"Yes, my friend," said Poirot unexpectedly, "we can. One of my first
actions was to ring up the hospital where she was working."

"Well?"

"Well, I learnt that Miss Howard had been on afternoon duty on Tuesday,
and that--a convoy coming in unexpectedly--she had kindly offered to
remain on night duty, which offer was gratefully accepted. That disposes
of that."

"Oh!" I said, rather nonplussed. "Really," I continued, "it's her
extraordinary vehemence against Inglethorp that started me off
suspecting her. I can't help feeling she'd do anything against him. And
I had an idea she might know something about the destroying of the will.
She might have burnt the new one, mistaking it for the earlier one in
his favour. She is so terribly bitter against him."

"You consider her vehemence unnatural?"

"Y--es. She is so very violent. I wondered really whether she is quite
sane on that point."

Poirot shook his head energetically.

"No, no, you are on a wrong tack there. There is nothing weak-minded
or degenerate about Miss Howard. She is an excellent specimen of
well-balanced English beef and brawn. She is sanity itself."

"Yet her hatred of Inglethorp seems almost a mania. My idea was--a very
ridiculous one, no doubt--that she had intended to poison him--and that,
in some way, Mrs. Inglethorp got hold of it by mistake. Bu