Poirot? We are going through my mother’s papers. Mr. Inglethorp is quite willing to leave it entirely to Mr. Wells and myself.”
“Which simplifies matters very much,” murmured the lawyer. “As technically, of course, he was entitled–-” He did not finish the sentence.
“We will look through the desk in the boudoir first,” explained John, “and go up to her bedroom afterwards. She kept her most important papers in a purple despatch-case, which we must look through carefully.”
“Yes,” said the lawyer,
the writing-table, engaged his attention for some time. He took out the key from the lock, and passed it to me to inspect. I saw nothing peculiar, however. It was an ordinary key of the Yale type, with a bit of twisted wire through the handle.
Next, he examined the framework of the door we had broken