Getting no answer, I repeated my summons impatiently. A window
above me was cautiously opened, and Poirot himself looked out.

He gave an exclamation of surprise at seeing me. In a few brief
words, I explained the tragedy that had occurred, and that I
wanted his help.

"Wait, my friend, I will let you in, and you shall recount to me
the affair whilst I dress."

In a few moments he had unbarred the door, and I followed him up
to his room. There he installed me in a chair, and I related the
whole story, keeping back nothing, and omitting no circumstance,
however insignificant, whilst he himself made a careful and
deliberate toilet.

I told him of my awakening, of Mrs. Inglethorp's dying words, of
her husband's absence, of the quarrel the day before, of the
scrap of conversation between Mary and her mother-in-law that I
had overheard, of the former quarrel between Mrs. Inglethorp and
Evelyn Howard, and of the latter's innuendoes.

I was hardly as clear as I could wish. I repeated myself several
times, and occasionally had to go back to some detail that I had
forgotten. Poirot smiled kindly on me.

"The mind is confused? Is it not so? Take time, mon ami. You are
agitated; you are excited--it is but natural. Presently, when we
are calmer, we will arrange the facts, neatly, each in his proper
place. We will examine--and reject. Those of importance we will