“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “Go on.”

“Well, my friend, as I say, my views as to Mr. Inglethorp’s guilt were very much shaken. There was, in fact, so much evidence against him that I was inclined to believe that he had not done it.”

“When did you change your mind?”

“When I found that the more efforts I made to clear him, the more efforts he made to get himself arrested. Then, when I discovered that Inglethorp had nothing to do with Mrs. Raikes and that in fact it was John Cavendish who was interested in that quarter, I was quite sure.”


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I have a fancy for having it analysed again, that is all.”

And not another word on the subject could I drag out of him.

This proceeding of Poirot’s, in respect of the coco, puzzled me intensely. I could see neither rhyme nor reason in it. However, my confidence in him, which at one time had rather


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