had once or twice that morning flashed through my brain. I had rejected it as absurd, nevertheless it persisted.
“You couldn’t call it a suspicion,” I murmured. “It’s so utterly foolish.”
“Come now,” urged Poirot encouragingly. “Do not fear. Speak your mind. You should always pay attention to your instincts.”
“Well then,” I blurted out, “it’s absurd—but I suspect Miss Howard of not telling all she knows!”
“Miss Howard?”
“Yes—you’ll laugh at me–-”
“Not at all. Why should I?”
“I can’t help
by sharks—she was. But it was only her purse they were after. Her life was safe enough. But along comes Mr. Alfred Inglethorp—and within two months—hey presto!”
“Believe me, Miss Howard,” said Poirot very earnestly, “if Mr. Inglethorp is the man, he shall not escape me. On my honour, I will hang him as high as Haman!”