"I told you, didn't I, that Mr. Inglethorp has returned?"

Poirot bent his head.

"It's an awkward position for all of us. Of course one has to
treat him as usual--but, hang it all, one's gorge does rise at
sitting down to eat with a possible murderer!"

Poirot nodded sympathetically.

"I quite understand. It is a very difficult situation for you,
Mr. Cavendish. I would like to ask you one question. Mr.
Inglethorp's reason for not returning last night was, I believe,
that he had forgotten the latch-key. Is not that so?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you are quite sure that the latch-key _was_
forgotten--that he did not take it after all?"

"I have no idea. I never thought of looking. We always keep it
in the hall drawer. I'll go and see if it's there now."

Poirot held up his hand with a faint smile.

"No, no, Mr. Cavendish, it is too late now. I am certain that
you would find it. If Mr. Inglethorp did take it, he has had
ample time to replace it by now."