matters by a frightful row going on below. I could hear Poirot shouting and expounding. I was vexed to think that my diplomacy had been in vain. The little man appeared to be taking the whole house into his confidence, a proceeding of which I, for one, doubted the wisdom. Once again I could not help regretting that my friend was so prone to lose his head in moments of excitement. I stepped briskly down the stairs. The sight of me calmed Poirot almost immediately. I drew him aside.
“My dear fellow,”
sharp and clear, and I heard what she said quite plainly. ‘You have lied to me, and deceived me,’ she said. I didn’t hear what Mr. Inglethorp replied. He spoke a good bit lower than she did—but she answered: ‘How dare you? I have kept you and clothed you and fed you! You owe everything to me! And this