There are no means of destroying it; and he dare not keep it. He looks round, and he sees—what do you think, mon ami?”

I shook my head.

“In a moment, he has torn the letter into long thin strips, and rolling them up into spills he thrusts them hurriedly in amongst the other spills in the vase on the mantle-piece.”

I uttered an exclamation.

“No one would think of looking there,” Poirot continued. “And he will be able, at his leisure, to come back and destroy this solitary piece of evidence against him.”

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