“No. I was fast asleep.”
The Coroner smiled.
“A good conscience makes a sound sleeper,” he observed. “Thank you, Miss Murdoch, that is all.”
“Miss Howard.”
Miss Howard produced the letter written to her by Mrs. Inglethorp on the evening of the 17th. Poirot and I had, of course already seen it. It added nothing to our knowledge of the tragedy. The following is a facsimile:
STYLES COURT ESSEX hand written note: July 17th My dear Evelyn
Can we not bury the hachet? I have found it hard to forgive the things you said
last. “It is evident! I had an idea—but clearly I was mistaken. Yes, altogether I was mistaken. Yet it is strange. But no matter!”
And, with a characteristic shrug, he dismissed whatever it was that was worrying him from his mind. I could have told him from the beginning that this obsession of his