With a groan, Alfred Inglethorp sank down again and buried his
face in his hands. Poirot approached and stood over him.

"Speak!" he cried menacingly.

With an effort, Inglethorp raised his face from his hands. Then,
slowly and deliberately, he shook his head.

"You will not speak?"

"No. I do not believe that anyone could be so monstrous as to
accuse me of what you say."

Poirot nodded thoughtfully, like a man whose mind is made up.

"Soit!" he said. "Then I must speak for you."

Alfred Inglethorp sprang up again.

"You? How can you speak? You do not know----" he broke off
abruptly.

Poirot turned to face us. "Mesdames and messieurs! I speak!
Listen! I, Hercule Poirot, affirm that the man who entered the
chemist's shop, and purchased strychnine at six o'clock on Monday
last was not Mr. Inglethorp, for at six o'clock on that day Mr.
Inglethorp was escorting Mrs. Raikes back to her home from a
neighbouring farm. I can produce no less than five witnesses to
swear to having seen them together, either at six or just after
and, as you may know, the Abbey Farm, Mrs. Raikes's home, is at