"Miss Howard, do you remember a conversation that took place on the
day of my friend's arrival here? He repeated it to me, and there is
a sentence of yours that has impressed me very much. Do you remember
affirming that if a crime had been committed, and anyone you loved had
been murdered, you felt certain that you would know by instinct who the
criminal was, even if you were quite unable to prove it?"

"Yes, I remember saying that. I believe it too. I suppose you think it
nonsense?"

"Not at all."

"And yet you will pay no attention to my instinct against Alfred
Inglethorp."

"No," said Poirot curtly. "Because your instinct is not against Mr.
Inglethorp."

"What?"

"No. You wish to believe he committed the crime. You believe him capable
of committing it. But your instinct tells you he did not commit it. It
tells you more--shall I go on?"

She was staring at him, fascinated, and made a slight affirmative
movement of the hand.

"Shall I tell you why you have been so vehement against Mr. Inglethorp?
It is because you have been trying to believe what you wish to believe.
It is because you are trying to drown and stifle your instinct, which
tells you another name----"

"No, no, no!" cried Miss Howard wildly, flinging up her hands. "Don't
say it! Oh, don't say it! It isn't true! It can't be true. I don't know
what put such a wild--such a dreadful--idea into my head!"

"I am right, am I not?" asked Poirot.

"Yes, yes; you must be a wizard to have guessed. But it can't be
so--it's too monstrous, too impossible. It must be Alfred Inglethorp."

Poirot shook his head gravely.

"Don't ask me about it," continued Miss Howard, "because I shan't tell
you. I won't admit it, even to myself. I must be mad to think of such a
thing."

Poirot nodded, as if satisfied.

"I will ask you nothing. It is enough for me that it is as I thought.
And I--I, too, have an instinct. We are working together towards a
common end."

"Don't ask me to help you, because I won't. I wouldn't lift a finger
to--to----" She faltered.

"You will help me in spite of yourself. I ask you nothing--but you will
be my ally. You will not be able to help yourself. You will do the only
thing that I want of you."

"And that is?"

"You will watch!"

Evelyn Howard bowed her head.

"Yes, I can't help doing that. I am always watching--always hoping I
shall be proved wrong."

"If we are wrong, well and good," said Poirot. "No one will be more
pl