in question was her husband. She would naturally open the door to her own husband.”
Poirot shook his head.
“Why should she? She had bolted the door leading into his room—a most unusual proceeding on her part—she had had a most violent quarrel with him that very afternoon. No, he was the last person she would admit.”
“But you agree with me that the door must have been opened by Mrs. Inglethorp herself?”
“There is another possibility. She may have forgotten to bolt the door into the passage when
should be. I wish you could have seen it then, sir. A fair sight it was. But now there’s only old Manning, and young William, and a new-fashioned woman gardener in breeches and such-like. Ah, these are dreadful times!”
“The good times will come again, Dorcas. At least, we hope so. Now, will you send Annie to me here?”