“Yes,” she said meditatively; then suddenly dropped her voice. “Mr. Hastings, you do not think—surely it could not have been Lawrence—Oh, no, that could not be!”
But I myself was puzzled, and as soon as I was alone with Poirot I asked him what he thought Sir Ernest was driving at.
“Ah!” said Poirot appreciatively. “He is a clever man, that Sir Ernest.”
“Do you think he believes Lawrence guilty?”
“I do not think he believes or cares anything! No, what he is trying for is to create such confusion
criminal? To divert suspicion from himself, is it not so? And how can he best do that? By throwing it on some one else. In this instance, there was a man ready to his hand. Everybody was predisposed to believe in Mr. Inglethorp’s guilt. It was a foregone conclusion that he would be suspected; but, to