"Both of them, my friend? One, I grant you, but both----!"

His words gave me an unpleasant shock. Miss Howard's evidence,
unimportant as it was, had been given in such a downright
straightforward manner that it had never occurred to me to doubt
her sincerity. Still, I had a great respect for Poirot's
sagacity--except on the occasions when he was what I described to
myself as "foolishly pig-headed."

"Do you really think so?" I asked. "Miss Howard had always
seemed to me so essentially honest--almost uncomfortably so."

Poirot gave me a curious look, which I could not quite fathom.
He seemed to speak, and then checked himself.

"Miss Murdoch too," I continued, "there's nothing untruthful
about _her_."

"No. But it was strange that she never heard a sound, sleeping
next door; whereas Mrs. Cavendish, in the other wing of the
building, distinctly heard the table fall."

"Well, she's young. And she sleeps soundly."

"Ah, yes, indeed! She must be a famous sleeper, that one!"

I did not quite like the tone of his voice, but at that moment a
smart knock reached our ears, and looking out of the window we
perceived the two detectives waiting for us below.