lot!" And he leered more jocosely than ever.

"Why, do the gentlemen from the Hall come here often?" I asked,
as carelessly as I could.

He winked at me knowingly.

"_One_ does, mister. Naming no names, mind. And a very liberal
gentleman too! Oh, thank you, sir, I'm sure."

I walked on sharply. Evelyn Howard had been right then, and I
experienced a sharp twinge of disgust, as I thought of Alfred
Inglethorp's liberality with another woman's money. Had that
piquant gipsy face been at the bottom of the crime, or was it the
baser mainspring of money? Probably a judicious mixture of both.

On one point, Poirot seemed to have a curious obsession. He once
or twice observed to me that he thought Dorcas must have made an
error in fixing the time of the quarrel. He suggested to her
repeatedly that it was 4.30, and not 4 o'clock when she had heard
the voices.

But Dorcas was unshaken. Quite an hour, or even more, had
elapsed between the time when she had heard the voices and 5
o'clock, when she had taken tea to her mistress.

The inquest was held on Friday at the Stylites Arms in the
village. Poirot and I sat together, not being required to give
evidence.