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Updated: May 21, 2025
Inglethorp, as a mere matter of form, would you mind telling us where you were on the evening of Monday, July 16th?" "Really I can't remember." "That is absurd, Mr. Inglethorp," said the Coroner sharply. "Think again." Inglethorp shook his head. "I cannot tell you. I have an idea that I was out walking." "In what direction?" "I really can't remember." The Coroner's face grew graver.
Inglethorp who had burnt the will; and there, by the way, you cannot complain, my friend, for I tried my best to force on you the significance of that bedroom fire in midsummer." "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.
To that I attribute the circumstance that you have omitted one fact of paramount importance." "What is that?" I asked. "You have not told me if Mrs. Inglethorp ate well last night." I stared at him. Surely the war had affected the little man's brain. He was carefully engaged in brushing his coat before putting it on, and seemed wholly engrossed in the task. "I don't remember," I said.
Inglethorp called to Cynthia from the hall, and the girl ran out. "Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going to bed." The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthia did, John was close by me. There were therefore three witnesses who could swear that Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, as yet untasted, in her hand.
"You were planting a bed of begonias round by the south side of the house yesterday afternoon, were you not, Manning?" "Yes, sir, me and Willum." "And Mrs. Inglethorp came to the window and called you, did she not?" "Yes, sir, she did." "Tell me in your own words exactly what happened after that." "Well, sir, nothing much.
"There is only one person who could possibly have destroyed that will Mrs. Inglethorp herself!" "Impossible!" I exclaimed. "She had only made it out that very afternoon!" "Nevertheless, mon ami, it was Mrs. Inglethorp. Because, in no other way can you account for the fact that, on one of the hottest days of the year, Mrs. Inglethorp ordered a fire to be lighted in her room." I gave a gasp.
John turned to me, taking out his cigarette-case, and lighting a cigarette as he did so. "You know that fellow Inglethorp is back?" "Yes. I met him." John flung the match into an adjacent flower bed, a proceeding which was too much for Poirot's feelings. He retrieved it, and buried it neatly. "It's jolly difficult to know how to treat him."
What idiots we had been never to think of that fire as being incongruous! Poirot was continuing: "The temperature on that day, messieurs, was 80 degrees in the shade. Yet Mrs. Inglethorp ordered a fire! Why? Because she wished to destroy something, and could think of no other way. You will remember that, in consequence of the War economics practiced at Styles, no waste paper was thrown away.
Inglethorp, you are standing in very grave danger." The two detectives fidgeted. I saw the official caution "Anything you say will be used in evidence against you," actually hovering on Summerhaye's lips. Poirot went on. "Do you understand now, monsieur?" "No; What do you mean?" "I mean," said Poirot deliberately, "that you are suspected of poisoning your wife."
"Ask away," said the lady, eyeing him with some disfavour. "I want to be able to count upon your help." "I'll help you to hang Alfred with pleasure," she replied gruffly. "Hanging's too good for him. Ought to be drawn and quartered, like in good old times." "We are at one then," said Poirot, "for I, too, want to hang the criminal." "Alfred Inglethorp?" "Him, or another." "No question of another.
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