That explains everything! Of course it did not take effect until
the early morning, since the coco was only drunk in the middle of
the night."

"So you think that the coco--mark well what I say, Hastings, the
coco--contained strychnine?"

"Of course! That salt on the tray, what else could it have been?"

"It might have been salt," replied Poirot placidly.

I shrugged my shoulders. If he was going to take the matter that
way, it was no good arguing with him. The idea crossed my mind,
not for the first time, that poor old Poirot was growing old.
Privately I thought it lucky that he had associated with him some
one of a more receptive type of mind.

Poirot was surveying me with quietly twinkling eyes.

"You are not pleased with me, mon ami?"

"My dear Poirot," I said coldly, "it is not for me to dictate to
you. You have a right to your own opinion, just as I have to
mine."

"A most admirable sentiment," remarked Poirot, rising briskly to
his feet. "Now I have finished with this room. By the way,
whose is the smaller desk in the corner?"

"Mr. Inglethorp's."