"It can be done," he said at last. "I admit I do not wish it.
It forces my hand. I would have preferred to work in the dark
just for the present, but what you say is very just--the word of
a Belgian policeman, whose day is past, is not enough! And Alfred
Inglethorp must not be arrested. That I have sworn, as my friend
Hastings here knows. See, then, my good Japp, you go at once to
Styles?"

"Well, in about half an hour. We're seeing the Coroner and the
doctor first."

"Good. Call for me in passing--the last house in the village. I
will go with you. At Styles, Mr. Inglethorp will give you, or if
he refuses--as is probable--I will give you such proofs that
shall satisfy you that the case against him could not possibly be
sustained. Is that a bargain?"

"That's a bargain," said Japp heartily. "And, on behalf of the
Yard, I'm much obliged to you, though I'm bound to confess I
can't at present see the faintest possible loop-hole in the
evidence, but you always were a marvel! So long, then, moosier."

The two detectives strode away, Summerhaye with an incredulous
grin on his face.

"Well, my friend," cried Poirot, before I could get in a word,
"what do you think? Mon Dieu! I had some warm moments in that
court; I did not figure to myself that the man would be so
pig-headed as to refuse to say anything at all. Decidedly, it
was the policy of an imbecile."