not reproachful; that she had been crying bitterly, I could tell
by the redness of her eyelids, but her manner was unchanged from
its old gruffness.

"Started the moment I got the wire. Just come off night duty.
Hired car. Quickest way to get here."

"Have you had anything to eat this morning, Evie?" asked John.

"No."

"I thought not. Come along, breakfast's not cleared away yet,
and they'll make you some fresh tea." He turned to me. "Look
after her, Hastings, will you? Wells is waiting for me. Oh,
here's Monsieur Poirot. He's helping us, you know, Evie."

Miss Howard shook hands with Poirot, but glanced suspiciously
over her shoulder at John.

"What do you mean--helping us?"

"Helping us to investigate."

"Nothing to investigate. Have they taken him to prison yet?"

"Taken who to prison?"

"Who? Alfred Inglethorp, of course!"

"My dear Evie, do be careful. Lawrence is of the opinion that my