The trial of John Cavendish for the murder of his stepmother took place two months later.

Of the intervening weeks I will say little, but my admiration and sympathy went out unfeignedly to Mary Cavendish. She ranged herself passionately on her husband's side, scorning the mere idea of his guilt, and fought for him tooth and nail.

I expressed my admiration to Poirot, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes, she is of those women who show at their best in adversity. It brings out all that is sweetest and truest in them. Her pride and her jealousy have--"

"Jealousy?" I queried.

"Yes. Have you not realized that she is an unusually jealous woman? As I was saying, her pride and jealousy have been laid aside. She thinks of nothing but her husband, and the terrible fate that is hanging over him."

He spoke very feelingly, and I looked at him earnestly, remembering that last afternoon, when he had been deliberating whether or not to speak. With his tenderness for "a woman's happiness," I felt glad that the decision had been taken out of his hands.

"Even now," I said, "I can hardly believe it. You see, up to the very last minute, I thought it was Lawrence!"

Poirot grinned.

"I know you did."

"But John! My old friend John!"

"Every murderer is probably somebody's old friend," observed Poirot philosophically. "You cannot mix up sentiment and reason."

"I must say I think you might have given me a hint."

"Perhaps, mon ami, I did not do so, just because he _was_ your old friend."

I was rather disconcerted by this, remembering how I had busily passed on to John what I believed to be Poirot's views concerning Bauerstein. He, by the way, had been acquitted of the charge brought against him. Nevertheless, although he had been too clever for them this time, and the charge of espionage could not be brought home to him, his wings were pretty well clipped for the future.

I asked Poirot whether he thought John would be condemned. To my intense surprise, he replied that, on the contrary, he was extremely likely to be acquitted.

"But, Poirot--" I protested.

"Oh, my friend, have I not said to you all along that I have no proofs. It is one thing to know that a man is guilty, it is quite another matter to prove him so. And, in this case, there is terribly little evidence. That is the whole trouble. I, Hercule Poirot, know, but I lack the last link in my chain. And unless I can find that missing link--" He shook his head gravely.

"When did you first suspect John Cavendish?" I asked, after a minute or two.

"Did you not suspect him at all?"

"No, indeed."

"Not after that fragment of conversation you overheard between Mrs. Cavendish and her mother-in-law, and her subsequent lack of frankness at the inquest?"

"No."

"Did you not put two and two together, and reflect that if it was not Alfred Inglethorp who was quarrelling with his wife--and you remember, he strenuously denied it at the inquest--it must be either Lawrence or John. Now, if it was Lawrence, Mary Cavendish's conduct was just as inexplicable. But if, on the other hand, it was John, the whole thing was explained quite naturally."

"So," I cried, a light breaking in upon me, "it was John who quarrelled with his mother that afternoon?"

"Exactly."

"And you have known this all along?"

"Certainly. Mrs. Cavendish's behaviour could only be explained that way."

"And yet you say he may be acquitted?"

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

"Certainly I do. At the police court proceedings, we shall hear the case for the prosecution, but in all probability his solicitors will advise him to reserve his defence. That will be sprung upon us at the trial. And--ah, by the way, I have a word of caution to give you, my friend. I must not appear in the case."

"What?"

"No. Officially, I have nothing to do with it. Until I have found that last link in my chain, I must remain behind the scenes. Mrs. Cavendish must think I am working for her husband, not against him."

"I say, that's playing it a bit low down," I protested.

"Not at all. We have to deal with a most clever and unscrupulous man, and we must use any means in our power--otherwise he will slip through our fingers. That is why I have been careful to remain in the background. All the discoveries have been made by Japp, and Japp will take all the credit. If I am called upon to give evidence at all"--he smiled broadly--"it will probably be as a witness for the defence."

I could hardly believe my ears.

"It is quite en regle," continued Poirot. "Strangely enough, I can give evidence that will demolish one contention of the prosecution."

"Which one?"

"The one that relates to the destruction of the will. John Cavendish did not destroy that will."

Poirot was a true prophet. I will not go into the details of the police court proceedings, as it involves many tiresome repetitions. I will merely state baldly that John Cavendish reserved his defence, and was duly committed for trial.

September found us all in London. Mary took a house in Kensington, Poirot being included in the family party.

I myself had been given a job at the War Office, so was able to see them continually.

As the weeks went by, the state of Poirot's nerves grew worse and worse. That "last link" he talked about was still lacking. Privately, I hoped it might remain so, for what happiness could there be for Mary, if John were not acquitted?

On September 15th John Cavendish appeared in the dock at the Old Bailey, charged with "The Wilful Murder of Emily Agnes Inglethorp," and pleaded "Not Guilty."

Sir Ernest Heavywether, the famous K. C., had been engaged to defend him.

Mr. Philips, K. C., opened the case for the Crown.

The murder, he said, was a most premeditated and cold-blooded one. It was neither more nor less than the deliberate poisoning of a fond and trusting woman by the stepson to whom she had been more than a mother. Ever since his boyhood, she had supported him. He and his wife had lived at Styles Court in every luxury, surrounded by her care and attention. She had been their kind and generous benefactress.

He proposed to call witnesses to show how the prisoner, a profligate and spendthrift, had been at the end of his financial tether, and had also been carrying on an intrigue with a certain Mrs. Raikes, a neighbouring farmer's wife. This having come to his stepmother's ears, she taxed him with it on the afternoon before her death, and a quarrel ensued, part of which was overheard. On the previous day, the prisoner had purchased strychnine at the village chemist's shop, wearing a disguise by means of which he hoped to throw the onus of the crime upon another man--to wit, Mrs. Inglethorp's husband, of whom he had been bitterly jealous. Luckily for Mr. Inglethorp, he had been able to produce an unimpeachable alibi.

On the afternoon of July 17th, continued Counsel, immediately after the quarrel with her son, Mrs. Inglethorp made a new will. This will was found destroyed in the grate of her bedroom the following morning, but evidence had come to light which showed that it had been drawn up in favour of her husband. Deceased had already made a will in his favour before her marriage, but--and Mr. Philips wagged an expressive forefinger--the prisoner was not aware of that. What had induced the deceased to make a fresh will, with the old one still extant, he could not say. She was an old lady, and might possibly have forgotten the former one; or--this seemed to him more likely--she may have had an idea that it was revoked by her marriage, as there had been some conversation on the subject. Ladies were not always very well versed in legal knowledge. She had, about a year before, executed a will in favour of the prisoner. He would call evidence to show that it was the prisoner who ultimately handed his stepmother her coffee on the fatal night. Later in the evening, he had sought admission to her room, on which occasion, no doubt, he found an opportunity of destroying the will which, as far as he knew, would render the one in his favour valid.

The prisoner had been arrested in consequence of the discovery, in his room, by Detective Inspector Japp--a most brilliant officer--of the identical phial of strychnine which had been sold at the village chemist's to the supposed Mr. Inglethorp on the day before the murder. It would be for the jury to decide whether or not these damning facts constituted an overwhelming proof of the prisoner's guilt.

And, subtly implying that a jury which did not so decide, was quite unthinkable, Mr. Philips sat down and wiped his forehead.

The first witnesses for the prosecution were mostly those who had been called at the inquest, the medical evidence being again taken first.

Sir Ernest Heavywether, who was famous all over England for the unscrupulous manner in which he bullied witnesses, only asked two questions.

"I take it, Dr. Bauerstein, that strychnine, as a drug, acts quickly?"

"Yes."

"And that you are unable to account for the delay in this case?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Mr. Mace identified the phial handed him by Counsel as that sold by him to "Mr. Inglethorp." Pressed, he admitted that he only knew Mr. Inglethorp by sight. He had never spoken to him. The witness was not cross-examined.

Alfred Inglethorp was called, and denied having purchased the poison. He also denied having quarrelled with his wife. Various witnesses testified to the accuracy of these statements.

The gardeners' evidence, as to the witnessing of the will was taken, and then Dorcas was called.

Dorcas, faithful to her "young gentlemen," denied strenuously that it could have been John's voice she heard, and resolutely declared, in the teeth of everything, that it was Mr. Inglethorp who had been in the boudoir with her mistress. A rather wistful smile passed across the face of the prisoner in the dock. He knew only too well how useless her gallant defiance was, since it was not the object of the defence to deny this point. Mrs. Cavendish, of course, could not be called upon to give evidence against her husband.

After various questions on other matters, Mr. Philips asked:

"In the month of June last, do you remember a parcel arriving for Mr. Lawrence Cavendish from Parkson's?"

Dorcas shook her head.

"I don't remember, sir. It may have done, but Mr. Lawrence was away from home part of June."

"In the event of a parcel arriving for him whilst he was away, what would be done with it?"

"It would either be put in his room or sent on after him."

"By you?"

"No, sir, I should leave it on the hall table. It would be Miss Howard who would attend to anything like that."

Evelyn Howard was called and, after being examined on other points, was questioned as to the parcel.

"Don't remember. Lots of parcels come. Can't remember one special one."

"You do not know if it was sent after Mr. Lawrence Cavendish to Wales, or whether it was put in his room?"

"Don't think it was sent after him. Should have remembered it if it was."

"Supposing a parcel arrived addressed to Mr. Lawrence Cavendish, and afterwards it disappeared, should you remark its absence?"

"No, don't think so. I should think some one had taken charge of it."

"I believe, Miss Howard, that it was you who found this sheet of brown paper?" He held up the same dusty piece which Poirot and I had examined in the morning-room at Styles.

"Yes, I did."

"How did you come to look for it?"

"The Belgian detective who was employed on the case asked me to search for it."

"Where did you eventually discover it?"

"On the top of--of--a wardrobe."

"On top of the prisoner's wardrobe?"

"I--I believe so."

"Did you not find it yourself?"

"Yes."

"Then you must know where you found it?"

"Yes, it was on the prisoner's wardrobe."

"That is better."

An assistant from Parkson's, Theatrical Costumiers, testified that on June 29th, they had supplied a black beard to Mr. L. Cavendish, as requested. It was ordered by letter, and a postal order was enclosed. No, they had not kept the letter. All transactions were entered in their books. They had sent the beard, as directed, to "L. Cavendish, Esq., Styles Court."

Sir Ernest Heavywether rose ponderously.

"Where was the letter written from?"

"From Styles Court."

"The same address to which you sent the parcel?"

"Yes."

"And the letter came from there?"

"Yes."

Like a beast of prey, Heavywether fell upon him:

"How do you know?"

"I--I don't understand."

"How do you know that letter came from Styles? Did you notice the postmark?"

"No--but--"

"Ah, you did _not_ notice the postmark! And yet you affirm so confidently that it came from Styles. It might, in fact, have been any postmark?"

"Y--es."

"In fact, the letter, though written on stamped notepaper, might have been posted from anywhere? From Wales, for instance?"

The witness admitted that such might be the case, and Sir Ernest signified that he was satisfied.

Elizabeth Wells, second housemaid at Styles, stated that after she had gone to bed she remembered that she had bolted the front door, instead of leaving it on the latch as Mr. Inglethorp had requested. She had accordingly gone downstairs again to rectify her error. Hearing a slight noise in the West wing, she had peeped along the passage, and had seen Mr. John Cavendish knocking at Mrs. Inglethorp's door.

Sir Ernest Heavywether made short work of her, and under his unmerciful bullying she contradicted herself hopelessly, and Sir Ernest sat down again with a satisfied smile on his face.

With the evidence of Annie, as to the candle grease on the floor, and as to seeing the prisoner take the coffee into the boudoir, the proceedings were adjourned until the following day.

As we went home, Mary Cavendish spoke bitterly against the prosecuting counsel.

"That hateful man! What a net he has drawn around my poor John! How he twisted every little fact until he made it seem what it wasn't!"

"Well," I said consolingly, "it will be the other way about to-morrow."

"Yes," she said meditatively; then suddenly dropped her voice. "Mr. Hastings, you do not think--surely it could not have been Lawrence--Oh, no, that could not be!"

But I myself was puzzled, and as soon as I was alone with Poirot I asked him what he thought Sir Ernest was driving at.

"Ah!" said Poirot appreciatively. "He is a clever man, that Sir Ernest."

"Do you think he believes Lawrence guilty?"

"I do not think he believes or cares anything! No, what he is trying for is to create such confusion in the minds of the jury that they are divided in their opinion as to which brother did it. He is endeavouring to make out that there is quite as much evidence against Lawrence as against John--and I am not at all sure that he will not succeed."

Detective-inspector Japp was the first witness called when the trial was reopened, and gave his evidence succinctly and briefly. After relating the earlier events, he proceeded:

"Acting on information received, Superintendent Summerhaye and myself searched the prisoner's room, during his temporary absence from the house. In his chest of drawers, hidden beneath some underclothing, we found: first, a pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez similar to those worn by Mr. Inglethorp"--these were exhibited--"secondly, this phial."

The phial was that already recognized by the chemist's assistant, a tiny bottle of blue glass, containing a few grains of a white crystalline powder, and labelled: "Strychnine Hydrochloride. POISON."

A fresh piece of evidence discovered by the detectives since the police court proceedings was a long, almost new piece of blotting-paper. It had been found in Mrs. Inglethorp's cheque book, and on being reversed at a mirror, showed clearly the words: ". . . erything of which I die possessed I leave to my beloved husband Alfred Ing ..." This placed beyond question the fact that the destroyed will had been in favour of the deceased lady's husband. Japp then produced the charred fragment of paper recovered from the grate, and this, with the discovery of the beard in the attic, completed his evidence.

But Sir Ernest's cross-examination was yet to come.

"What day was it when you searched the prisoner's room?"

"Tuesday, the 24th of July."

"Exactly a week after the tragedy?"

"Yes."

"You found these two objects, you say, in the chest of drawers. Was the drawer unlocked?"

"Yes."

"Does it not strike you as unlikely that a man who had committed a crime should keep the evidence of it in an unlocked drawer for anyone to find?"

"He might have stowed them there in a hurry."

"But you have just said it was a whole week since the crime. He would have had ample time to remove them and destroy them."

"Perhaps."

"There is no perhaps about it. Would he, or would he not have had plenty of time to remove and destroy them?"

"Yes."

"Was the pile of underclothes under which the things were hidden heavy or light?"

"Heavyish."

"In other words, it was winter underclothing. Obviously, the prisoner would not be likely to go to that drawer?"

"Perhaps not."

"Kindly answer my question. Would the prisoner, in the hottest week of a hot summer, be likely to go to a drawer containing winter underclothing. Yes, or no?"

"No."

"In that case, is it not possible that the articles in question might have been put there by a third person, and that the prisoner was quite unaware of their presence?"

"I should not think it likely."

"But it is possible?"

"Yes."

"That is all."

More evidence followed. Evidence as to the financial difficulties in which the prisoner had found himself at the end of July. Evidence as to his intrigue with Mrs. Raikes--poor Mary, that must have been bitter hearing for a woman of her pride. Evelyn Howard had been right in her facts, though her animosity against Alfred Inglethorp had caused her to jump to the conclusion that he was the person concerned.

Lawrence Cavendish was then put into the box. In a low voice, in answer to Mr. Philips' questions, he denied having ordered anything from Parkson's in June. In fact, on June 29th, he had been staying away, in Wales.

Instantly, Sir Ernest's chin was shooting pugnaciously forward.

"You deny having ordered a black beard from Parkson's on June 29th?"

"I do."

"Ah! In the event of anything happening to your brother, who will inherit Styles Court?"

The brutality of the question called a flush to Lawrence's pale face. The judge gave vent to a faint murmur of disapprobation, and the prisoner in the dock leant forward angrily.

Heavywether cared nothing for his client's anger.

"Answer my question, if you please."

"I suppose," said Lawrence quietly, "that I should."

"What do you mean by you 'suppose'? Your brother has no children. You _would_ inherit it, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"Ah, that's better," said Heavywether, with ferocious geniality. "And you'd inherit a good slice of money too, wouldn't you?"

"Really, Sir Ernest," protested the judge, "these questions are not relevant."

Sir Ernest bowed, and having shot his arrow proceeded.

"On Tuesday, the 17th July, you went, I believe, with another guest, to visit the dispensary at the Red Cross Hospital in Tadminster?"

"Yes."

"Did you--while you happened to be alone for a few seconds--unlock the poison cupboard, and examine some of the bottles?"

"I--I--may have done so."

"I put it to you that you did do so?"

"Yes."

Sir Ernest fairly shot the next question at him.

"Did you examine one bottle in particular?"

"No, I do not think so."

"Be careful, Mr. Cavendish. I am referring to a little bottle of Hydro-chloride of Strychnine."

Lawrence was turning a sickly greenish colour.

"N--o--I am sure I didn't."

"Then how do you account for the fact that you left the unmistakable impress of your finger-prints on it?"

The bullying manner was highly efficacious with a nervous disposition.

"I--I suppose I must have taken up the bottle."

"I suppose so too! Did you abstract any of the contents of the bottle?"

"Certainly not."

"Then why did you take it up?"

"I once studied to be a doctor. Such things naturally interest me."

"Ah! So poisons 'naturally interest' you, do they? Still, you waited to be alone before gratifying that 'interest' of yours?"

"That was pure chance. If the others had been there, I should have done just the same."

"Still, as it happens, the others were not there?"

"No, but----"

"In fact, during the whole afternoon, you were only alone for a couple of minutes, and it happened--I say, it happened--to be during those two minutes that you displayed your 'natural interest' in Hydro-chloride of Strychnine?"

Lawrence stammered pitiably.

"I--I----"

With a satisfied and expressive countenance, Sir Ernest observed:

"I have nothing more to ask you, Mr. Cavendish."

This bit of cross-examination had caused great excitement in court. The heads of the many fashionably attired women present were busily laid together, and their whispers became so loud that the judge angrily threatened to have the court cleared if there was not immediate silence.

There was little more evidence. The hand-writing experts were called upon for their opinion of the signature of "Alfred Inglethorp" in the chemist's poison register. They all declared unanimously that it was certainly not his hand-writing, and gave it as their view that it might be that of the prisoner disguised. Cross-examined, they admitted that it might be the prisoner's hand-writing cleverly counterfeited.

Sir Ernest Heavywether's speech in opening the case for the defence was not a long one, but it was backed by the full force of his emphatic manner. Never, he said, in the course of his long experience, had he known a charge of murder rest on slighter evidence. Not only was it entirely circumstantial, but the greater part of it was practically unproved. Let them take the testimony they had heard and sift it impartially. The strychnine had been found in a drawer in the prisoner's room. That drawer was an unlocked one, as he had pointed out, and he submitted that there was no evidence to prove that it was the prisoner who had concealed the poison there. It was, in fact, a wicked and malicious attempt on the part of some third person to fix the crime on the prisoner. The prosecution had been unable to produce a shred of evidence in support of their contention that it was the prisoner who ordered the black beard from Parkson's. The quarrel which had taken place between prisoner and his stepmother was freely admitted, but both it and his financial embarrassments had been grossly exaggerated.

His learned friend--Sir Ernest nodded carelessly at Mr. Philips--had stated that if the prisoner were an innocent man, he would have come forward at the inquest to explain that it was he, and not Mr. Inglethorp, who had been the participator in the quarrel. He thought the facts had been misrepresented. What had actually occurred was this. The prisoner, returning to the house on Tuesday evening, had been authoritatively told that there had been a violent quarrel between Mr. and Mrs. Inglethorp. No suspicion had entered the prisoner's head that anyone could possibly have mistaken his voice for that of Mr. Inglethorp. He naturally concluded that his stepmother had had two quarrels.

The prosecution averred that on Monday, July 16th, the prisoner had entered the chemist's shop in the village, disguised as Mr. Inglethorp. The prisoner, on the contrary, was at that time at a lonely spot called Marston's Spinney, where he had been summoned by an anonymous note, couched in blackmailing terms, and threatening to reveal certain matters to his wife unless he complied with its demands. The prisoner had, accordingly, gone to the appointed spot, and after waiting there vainly for half an hour had returned home. Unfortunately, he had met with no one on the way there or back who could vouch for the truth of his story, but luckily he had kept the note, and it would be produced as evidence.

As for the statement relating to the destruction of the will, the prisoner had formerly practiced at the Bar, and was perfectly well aware that the will made in his favour a year before was automatically revoked by his stepmother's remarriage. He would call evidence to show who did destroy the will, and it was possible that that might open up quite a new view of the case.

Finally, he would point out to the jury that there was evidence against other people besides John Cavendish. He would direct their attention to the fact that the evidence against Mr. Lawrence Cavendish was quite as strong, if not stronger than that against his brother.

He would now call the prisoner.

John acquitted himself well in the witness-box. Under Sir Ernest's skilful handling, he told his tale credibly and well. The anonymous note received by him was produced, and handed to the jury to examine. The readiness with which he admitted his financial difficulties, and the disagreement with his stepmother, lent value to his denials.

At the close of his examination, he paused, and said:

"I should like to make one thing clear. I utterly reject and disapprove of Sir Ernest Heavywether's insinuations against my brother. My brother, I am convinced, had no more to do with the crime than I have."

Sir Ernest merely smiled, and noted with a sharp eye that John's protest had produced a very favourable impression on the jury.

Then the cross-examination began.

"I understand you to say that it never entered your head that the witnesses at the inquest could possibly have mistaken your voice for that of Mr. Inglethorp. Is not that very surprising?"

"No, I don't think so. I was told there had been a quarrel between my mother and Mr. Inglethorp, and it never occurred to me that such was not really the case."

"Not when the servant Dorcas repeated certain fragments of the conversation--fragments which you must have recognized?"

"I did not recognize them."

"Your memory must be unusually short!"

"No, but we were both angry, and, I think, said more than we meant. I paid very little attention to my mother's actual words."

Mr. Philips' incredulous sniff was a triumph of forensic skill. He passed on to the subject of the note.

"You have produced this note very opportunely. Tell me, is there nothing familiar about the hand-writing of it?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you not think that it bears a marked resemblance to your own hand-writing--carelessly disguised?"

"No, I do not think so."

"I put it to you that it is your own hand-writing!"

"No."

"I put it to you that, anxious to prove an alibi, you conceived the idea of a fictitious and rather incredible appointment, and wrote this note yourself in order to bear out your statement!"

"No."

"Is it not a fact that, at the time you claim to have been waiting about at a solitary and unfrequented spot, you were really in the chemist's shop in Styles St. Mary, where you purchased strychnine in the name of Alfred Inglethorp?"

"No, that is a lie."

"I put it to you that, wearing a suit of Mr. Inglethorp's clothes, with a black beard trimmed to resemble his, you were there--and signed the register in his name!"

"That is absolutely untrue."

"Then I will leave the remarkable similarity of hand-writing between the note, the register, and your own, to the consideration of the jury," said Mr. Philips, and sat down with the air of a man who has done his duty, but who was nevertheless horrified by such deliberate perjury.

After this, as it was growing late, the case was adjourned till Monday.

Poirot, I noticed, was looking profoundly discouraged. He had that little frown between the eyes that I knew so well.

"What is it, Poirot?" I inquired.

"Ah, mon ami, things are going badly, badly."

In spite of myself, my heart gave a leap of relief. Evidently there was a likelihood of John Cavendish being acquitted.

When we reached the house, my little friend waved aside Mary's offer of tea.

"No, I thank you, madame. I will mount to my room."

I followed him. Still frowning, he went across to the desk and took out a small pack of patience cards. Then he drew up a chair to the table, and, to my utter amazement, began solemnly to build card houses!

My jaw dropped involuntarily, and he said at once:

"No, mon ami, I am not in my second childhood! I steady my nerves, that is all. This employment requires precision of the fingers. With precision of the fingers goes precision of the brain. And never have I needed that more than now!"

"What is the trouble?" I asked.

With a great thump on the table, Poirot demolished his carefully built up edifice.

"It is this, mon ami! That I can build card houses seven stories high, but I cannot"--thump--"find"--thump--"that last link of which I spoke to you."

I could not quite tell what to say, so I held my peace, and he began slowly building up the cards again, speaking in jerks as he did so.

"It is done--so! By placing--one card--on another--with mathematical--precision!"

I watched the card house rising under his hands, story by story. He never hesitated or faltered. It was really almost like a conjuring trick.

"What a steady hand you've got," I remarked. "I believe I've only seen your hand shake once."

"On an occasion when I was enraged, without doubt," observed Poirot, with great placidity.

"Yes indeed! You were in a towering rage. Do you remember? It was when you discovered that the lock of the despatch-case in Mrs. Inglethorp's bedroom had been forced. You stood by the mantel-piece, twiddling the things on it in your usual fashion, and your hand shook like a leaf! I must say----"

But I stopped suddenly. For Poirot, uttering a hoarse and inarticulate cry, again annihilated his masterpiece of cards, and putting his hands over his eyes swayed backwards and forwards, apparently suffering the keenest agony.

"Good heavens, Poirot!" I cried. "What is the matter? Are you taken ill?"

"No, no," he gasped. "It is--it is--that I have an idea!"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, much relieved. "One of your 'little ideas'?"

"Ah, ma foi, no!" replied Poirot frankly. "This time it is an idea gigantic! Stupendous! And you--_you_, my friend, have given it to me!"

Suddenly clasping me in his arms, he kissed me warmly on both cheeks, and before I had recovered from my surprise ran headlong from the room.

Mary Cavendish entered at that moment.

"What is the matter with Monsieur Poirot? He rushed past me crying out: 'A garage! For the love of Heaven, direct me to a garage, madame!' And, before I could answer, he had dashed out into the street."

I hurried to the window. True enough, there he was, tearing down the street, hatless, and gesticulating as he went. I turned to Mary with a gesture of despair.

"He'll be stopped by a policeman in another minute. There he goes, round the corner!"

Our eyes met, and we stared helplessly at one another.

"What can be the matter?"

I shook my head.

"I don't know. He was building card houses, when suddenly he said he had an idea, and rushed off as you saw."

"Well," said Mary, "I expect he will be back before dinner."

But night fell, and Poirot had not returned.

因其谋杀继母而对约翰·卡文迪什的审判在两个月后进行。

有关这几个星期来的情况，我要说的不多，但是，对玛丽·卡文迪什，我充满了真诚的赞美和同情。她热情地站在丈夫的一边，摈斥一切认为他是有罪的念头，并且竭尽全力为他战斗。

我把我的这种赞美告诉了波洛，他若有所思地点点头。

“是呀，她是那种在逆境中方能显出她们的最好美德的女人，在这种时候才能充分表现出她们身上的极度温存和无限真诚。她的骄做和妒忌已被——”

“妒忌？”我问道。

“是的。你没有意识到她是一个非常妒忌的女人？我现在在说的时候，她的骄做和妒忌已被搁到一边。除了她的丈夫，以及那威胁着他的可怕的命运，她什么都不去考虑了。”

他说得非常富有感情，我诚挚地朝他注视着，想起了那最后一个下午，当时他正在仔细考虑说还是不说。怀着他的为了“一个女人的幸福”的柔情，我感到高兴的是，这一决定是由他作出的。

“即使到现在，“我说，“我也几乎不能相信这一点。你知道，直到最后一刻，我还认为是劳伦斯！”

波洛咧着嘴笑了。

“我知道你的想法。”

“结果却是约翰！我的老朋友约翰！”

“每一个杀人犯都可能是某一个人的老朋友，”波洛富有哲学意味他说。“你不能把感情和理智混淆起来。”

“我得说我认为你本来司“以给我一点暗示的。”

“也许，我的朋友，我不这样做，正因为他是你的老朋友。”

这话使我感到有点难堪，我想起了我如何把我认为是波洛对鲍斯坦的看法急急忙忙地告诉了约翰。顺便说一句，有关对他指控一事，他已被宣判无罪。不过，尽管这一次由于他对此极为机灵，指控他犯有间谍活动罪没能得到证实，他的活动可大大地受到限制了。

我问波洛他是否认为约翰会被宣判有罪。使我十分吃惊的是，他回答说，恰恰相反，他非常有可能宣判无罪。

“可是，波洛——”我表示不同意。

“哦，我的朋友，我一直没有对你说过，我没有证据。知道一个人犯罪是一回事，而证明他犯罪又是另一回事，假若是这样的话，证据是极少极少的。这就是整个困难所在。我，赫卡尔·波洛，是知道的，但是，在我的链条中，还缺少最后的一环。除非我能找到这缺少的一环——”他沉重地摇摇头。

“你什么时候开始怀疑约翰。卡文迪什的？”过了一会，我问道。

“你一点都没有怀疑他？”

“真的没有。”

“在你偶然听到卡文迪什太太和她婆婆之间的那次谈话片断，以及看到她后来审讯中不够坦率之后，也没有？”

“是的。”

“你不要把两个和两个放在一起，而应该考虑到，假如那天下午和英格里桑太太吵架的不是阿弗雷德·英格里桑——你总还记得，他在审讯时竭力否认这一点——那一定是劳伦斯或者是约翰了。如果这是劳伦斯，玛丽·卡文迪什的举动则就令人费解。但换之，如果是约翰，这整个事情解释起来就非常自然了。”

“这么说，”我恍然大悟，叫了起来，“那天下午和英格里桑太太吵架的是约翰了？”

“一点不错。”

“你一直知道这情况？”

“当然。卡文迪什太太的举动只能这样来解释。”

“可是你说他可能被宣判无罪？”

波洛耸耸肩膀。

“我是这么说的。在警察法庭的诉讼程序中，我们将会听到对原告有利的案情陈述，可是完全有可能他的律师会建议他保留答辩权。而到正式审判时，会使我们大吃一惊。还有——哦，顺便我有句话要告诫你，朋友。在这种情况下我不一定出面。”

“什么？”

“是的。正式说，我和这没有什么关系。在我找到我链条那最后的一环之前，我必须留在后台。卡文迪什太太一定会想到，我正在为他的丈夫奔波，而不是在搞他。”

“哟，我看，这可有点象在耍手段。”我表示不赞同。

“根本不是。我们不得不和一个极其狡滑、无耻的人打交道，因此我们必须采用一切方法来控制住他——否则他会从我们的指缝中溜掉。这就是为什么我要谨慎小心地呆在幕后。所有发现都是贾普作出的，因此贾普将得到全部荣誉。要是叫我去作证的话，”——他豁达地笑了起来——“那就有可能成为有利于被告一方的证人了。”

我简直不能相信自己的耳朵了。

“这完全是按章办事，”波洛继续说。“说也奇怪，我可以提出证据来推翻原告一方的一个论点。”

“哪一个？”

“说是毁坏遗嘱这个论点。约翰·卡文迪什并没有毁坏那份遗嘱。”

波洛是一位真正的先知。我不想去探究警察法庭诉讼程序中的那些细节了，因为它包括了许多令人厌烦的复述。我只打算直截了当他说一点：约翰·卡文迪什保留了自己的答辩权，并被正式交付审判。

九月间，我们全部到了伦敦。玛丽在肯辛顿租了一幢房子，家庭聚会的人员中包括波洛。

我自己已被分配在陆军部任职，因此得以经常地看到他们。

随着几个星期的过去，波洛的精神态度变得愈来愈坏了。他说的那个“最后一环”依然没有着落。我私底下希望，也许还是这么搁着的好，因为，要是约翰宣判有罪的话，对玛丽来说，还能有什么幸福可言呢？

九月十五日，约翰·卡文迪什因被控“蓄意谋杀埃米莉·阿格尼丝·英格里桑”，且“不服”，在伦敦中央刑事法院出庭受审。

著名的王室法律顾问欧内斯特·海维韦萨爵土受聘为他辩护。

菲利普斯先生代表王国政府开始提出公诉。

他说，这是一桩经过充分预谋的，极为残酷的凶杀案。它完全证实，一个慈祥轻信的女人被她的前房儿子所蓄意毒杀，而她对待他胜过亲生母亲。自他童年起，她就开始抚养他。直到今天，他和他的妻子仍受到她的无微不至的爱护和照料，在斯泰尔斯庄园过着奢侈的生活。她是他们的慈善、慷慨的恩人。

他提议传证人上庭证明被告——一个浪荡公子——如何在经济方面已处于山穷水尽的地步，可他还继续和一个邻近的农场主的老婆叫雷克斯太太的私通。这一消息传到他后母的耳中，就在她被害的那天下午，她为此责备了他，结果发生了争吵，其中一部分话被人无意中听到。在这前一天，被告曾去村子里的药店买回士的宁，他化了装，试图借此把罪责加到另一个人——即英格里桑太太的丈夫身上，被告对他极为妒忌。幸亏英格里桑先生能够提出无可指摘的证据，证明本人不在犯罪现场。

检察官继续说，七月十六日下午，和自己的儿子争吵后，英格里桑太太立即立了一份新遗嘱，这份遗嘱第二天早上发现已被毁于她的卧室的壁炉中，但证据经显露，表明它立得有利于她的丈夫。实际上，在结婚之前，死者已立有一份于他丈夫有利的遗嘱，但是——这时菲利普斯先生摇着一个富有表情的食指——被告对此一无所知。这份旧遗嘱迄今还在。是什么导致死者重立一份新的，他没能说出。她是一位上了年纪的老太太了，说不定有可能已经忘掉了以前的一份；或者是——这种说法对他来说似乎更可靠——她也许有一个想法，以为结了婚这份遗嘱就作废了，因为在这个问题上曾经有过某种说法。女士们总是不很精通法律知识的。大约在一年前，她已经签署了一份于被告有利的遗嘱。他还将传来证人证明在那个不幸的晚上，最后把咖啡递给英格里桑太太的是被告。当天晚上，他曾得到允许进入她的房间，就在那时候，无疑，他找到了烧毁这份遗嘱的机会，因为就他所知，这份遗嘱会使英格里桑先生的受宠得以合法化。

被告的被捕是由于侦探贾普巡官——一位非常高明的警宫——在他的房里发现了一只装士的宁的小药瓶，这就是作案前一天村子药店卖给假英格里桑先生的那一只。陪审团将确定这些导致定罪的事实是否足以构成判定被告有罪的充分证据。

菲利普斯先生巧妙地暗示，陪审团如果不作出这样的决定是非常难以想象的，随后他坐了下来，擦了擦前额。

为原告作证的主要证人大多为验尸时被审讯过的那些，此外，还第一次提出了验尸报告。

欧内斯特·海维韦萨爵士——他以对待证人采用威胁方式而闻名全英国——只问了两个问题。

“我想，鲍斯坦医生，那士的宁作为一种麻醉剂，作用是很快的吧？”

“是的。”

“而你说不出在本案中所以缓延的原因？”

“是的。”

“谢谢。”

梅司先生认出检察宫给他着的这只小药瓶就是他卖给“英格里桑先生”的那只。经催促，他承认他只是跟英格里桑先生面熟，从来没有和他谈过话。这个证人没有再受到盘问。

阿弗雷德·英格里桑受到传讯，他矢口否认去买过毒药。他也否认同他的妻子有过争吵。好几个证人都证明这些陈述是正确的。

花匠的证词，叙述了有关在遗嘱上连署的情况，接下去传讯到多卡斯。

忠实于她的“少爷”的多卡斯，竭力否认她听到的是约翰的声音，而且不顾一切地一口咬定，在闺房里和女主人争吵的是英格里桑先生。正在受审的被告脸上，掠过了一丝苦笑。他非常清楚地知道，她的勇敢的违抗是多么地没有用处，因为否认这一点并不是辩护的目的。卡文迪什太太当然不可能被传到庭上来发表不利于她丈夫的证词。

就其它情况提了几个问题后，菲利普斯先生问道：

“在今年六月底的时候，你是否记得派克森商店给劳伦斯·卡文迪什先生寄来过一个包裹？”

多卡斯摇摇头。

“我不记得了，先生。也许有这件事，不过劳伦斯先生六月份有一段时间不在家。”

“倘使有个包裹寄给他而他又不在家，那怎么办？”

“可以放在他房里或者是转给他。”

“这由你管吗？”

“不，先生，我只是把它搁在过道的桌子上。象这类事都由霍华德小姐料理。”

伊夫琳·霍华德被传到庭上。问了她几个别的问题后，就问她这个包裹的事。

“不记得，来的包裹很多。我没法一个个都专门记住。”

“你是否记得劳伦斯先生去威尔士后，你有没有把这个包裹转给他，或者是你就把它放在他房里了？”

“想不起转过包裹。有的话应该记得的。”

“假如有个包裹寄来给劳伦斯·卡文迪什先生，可后来它不见了，你应该发觉它的失落吧？”

“不，我不这样想。我会认为有个人把它保管起来了。”

“我相信，霍华德小姐，是你找到这张包装纸的吧？”他举起波洛和我在斯泰尔斯庄园的起居室里检查过的那张满是灰尘的纸。给她看了看。

“是的，是我。”

“你怎么会去找这张纸的？”

“那个雇来办这桩案子的比利时侦探要我找的。”

“你最后是在哪儿发现它的？”

“在衣柜的——的——顶上。”

“在被告的衣柜顶上？”

“我——我相信是这样。”

“不是你自己找到的？”

“不。”

“那你应该知道你是在哪儿找到的了？”

“是的，在被告的衣柜上。”

“这就好了。”

派克森戏剧服装商店的一个店员作证说，六月二十九日，他们根据要求给L.·卡文迪什先生供应了一大绺黑胡子。它是来信订购的，信内附有一张邮政汇票。不，来信他们没有保存。全部交易情况都记载入册。根据来信指明地址，他们已将胡于迳寄“斯泰尔斯庄园，L.·卡文迪什先生。”

欧内斯特·海维韦萨爵士沉重地站了起来。

“这信是从哪儿写来的？”

“从斯泰尔斯庄园。”

“你们包裹寄的是同一地址？”

“是的。”

“信是从那儿来的？”

“是的。”

海维韦萨就象一头猛兽朝他扑了上去。

“你怎么知道？”

“我——我不懂。”

“你怎么知道信是从斯泰尔斯来的？你看到邮戳了？”

“没有——不过——”

“啊，你没有看到邮戳！可你竟这么自信地肯定说信是从斯泰尔斯来的，事实上，它也许盖的是别的什么地方的邮戳呢？”

“是——的。”

“这封信虽然写在印有地址的信纸上，可事实上，它也许是从别的什么地方投寄的呢？譬如从威尔士？”

证人承认情况有可能是这样，于是欧内斯待爵士才表示满意。

斯泰尔斯庄园一个干粗活的女佣人伊丽莎白·威尔斯陈述说，那天晚上她已上床，后来想起她把大门给闩住了，没有象英格里桑先生所要求的那样只扣上弹簧锁。因此，她就又下楼去纠正自己的错误。这时，她听到右侧屋有轻微的响声，偷偷朝过道一看，看到约翰·卡文迪什先生正在敲英格里桑太太的门。

欧内斯特·海维韦萨爵上迅速解决了她的问题，在他的无情的逼问下，她绝望地自相矛盾起来了，于是欧内斯特爵上脸上带着满意的笑容重新坐了下来。

安妮的证词叙述了地板上蜡烛油的事，以及看到被告把咖啡送进闺房。

审判到此休庭，定次日继续进行。

我们一回到家里，玛丽就大骂检察官。

“这个可恶的人！他给我的可怜的约翰拉上了一张什么网！他竟把每一桩小事都歪曲得面目全非！”

“哦，”我安慰说，“到明天情况会不同的。”

“是啊，”她若有所思地说；接着她突然压低了声音。“哈斯丁先生，你不会认为——”这谅必不会是劳伦斯——哦，不，不可能！”

可是我自己也感到迷惑不解，因此一和波洛单独在一起，我就问他，他认为欧内斯特爵士到底是什么意思。

“嗨！”波洛赏识地说，“他是个聪明人，那位欧内斯特爵士。”

“你认为他是否相信劳伦斯犯了罪？”

“我并不认为他相信或者特别注意某一点！不，他这样做的意图是要在陪审团的思想上引起混乱，使他们在认为是他兄长干的这个意见上产生分歧。他力图证明告发劳伦斯的证据完全和告发约翰的一样多——我十分相信他一定会成功。”

重又开庭审判时，第一个被传的证人是侦探巡官贾普，他的证词简明扼要。在叙述了较早的一些事情后，他继而说：

“接到按照通知行动的指示后，萨默海警长和我本人，趁被告暂离住房时，搜查了他的房间。在他的五斗橱里，一些内衣裤的底下，我们发现：首先是一副和英格里桑先生戴的那副相似的金边夹鼻眼镜。”——它己提交给庭上——”其次就是这只小药瓶。”

小药瓶就是药店伙计已经辨认过的那只，是只蓝色的小玻璃瓶，里面装有一点白色结晶状粉未，瓶上标明：

“土的宁盐酸。剧毒。”

自警察法庭起诉以来，被侦探们发现的一件新证据是一张长长的，几乎是全新的吸墨水纸。它是在英格里桑太太的一本支票簿里发现的，用镜子一反照，就清晰地映出这么几个字：“……我死之后，我所拥有的全部财产均遗给我心爱的丈夫阿弗雷德·英格……”这无可争辩地证实了这样一个事实：那份被毁的遗嘱是有利于死去的太太的文夫的。当时，贾普曾出示经过复原的壁炉里取出的烧焦纸片作为证据。而现在，这，再加上在阁楼上发现的假胡子，使他的证据得以完善了。

但是，欧内斯特爵士还是进行了盘问。

“你搜查被告的房间是哪一天？”

“星期二，七月二十四号。”

“恰好是发生惨案后一星期？”

“是的。”

“你说，你们是在五斗橱里发现这两样东西的。那抽斗没锁吧？”

“是的。”

“你认为，一个犯了罪的人把罪证保存在一只任何人都能发现的没锁的抽斗里是可能的吗？”

“他也许匆忙中暂时把它们藏在那儿。”

“可是你刚才说了，从犯罪那天起已经有整整一个星期了。他应该有充分的时间来转移它们，以及毁掉它们。”

“也许有。”

“在这个问题上不存在‘也许’。他是有，还是没有充裕的时间来转移和毁掉它们呢？”

“有的。”

“底下藏着这两样东西的那堆内衣裤是厚的还是薄的？”

“很厚。”

“换句话说，这是些冬天穿的内衣裤。显然，被告是不可能去开那抽斗的罗？”

“也许不可能。”

“请回答我的问题。在炎热的夏天里最热的一个星期，被告可不可能去开放着冬天内衣裤的抽斗？可能还是不可能？”

“不可能。”

“假如是那样，现在谈到的这两样东西是否有可能为一个第三者所放，而被告对此完全不知情呢？”

“我可认为这不太可能。”

“但这有可能吗？”

“有。”

“那就行了。”

接下去是一些其它证据。有关被告发觉自己到七月底要陷入经济困境的证据。有关他和雷克斯太太私通的证据——可怜的玛丽，对她这么一个矜持的女人来说，听这是很痛苦的。伊夫琳·霍华德说的事实是对的，虽然她对阿弗雷德·英格里桑的憎恨使得她武断地乱下了个结论，硬说他是与比案有关连的人。

后来，劳伦斯·卡文迪什被带进了证人席。他用一种很低的声音来回答菲利普斯先生的问题，他矢口否认六月间向派克森商店订购过东西。事实上，六月二十九日，他已不在家里，在威尔士。”

欧内斯特爵士的下巴立即好斗地向前突了出来。

“你否认六月二十九日向派克森商店订购过黑胡子吗？”

“是的。”

“啊！万一你哥哥出了事。谁将继承斯泰尔斯庄园呢？”

这句残酷的问话直问得劳伦斯那张苍白的脸一片通红。法官不满地低声抱怨着，被告席上的被告恼怒地屈身向前。

海维韦萨对当事人的恼怒毫不在意。

“请你回答我的问题。”

“我想，”劳伦斯平静他说。“是我。”

“你说‘想’，这是什么意思？怀哥哥没有孩子，将由你继承它，是么？”

“是的。”

“哦，那很好。”海维韦萨带着一种残忍的亲切语气说。“你还将继承大部分财产，是么？”

“说实在，欧内期特爵士，”法官提出了异议，“这些问题是无关的。”

欧内斯持爵士点点头，继续发射出他的利箭。

“七月十七日，星期二那天，我相信，你曾和另一位客人去拜访过塔明斯持红十字医院的药房，是么？”

“是的。”

“当你碰巧单独待着几秒钟的时候，你曾打开毒药橱检查过一些瓶子么？”

“我——我——可能是这样。”

“我看你是肯定这样吧？”

“是的。”

欧内斯特爵士紧接着又迳直朝他射出了第二个问题。

“你有没有特别检查过一只瓶子？”

“没有，我没有这么想。”

“注意，卡文迪什先生。我说的是一小瓶士的宁盐酸。”

劳伦斯的脸色刷地发青了。

“没——没——有，我真的没有。”

“那么你怎么来解释你在它上面留下一清二楚的指纹这一事实呢？”

这种威吓手法对于神经过敏的脾性极为灵验。

“我——我想，我一定拿过这只瓶子了。”

“我也这样想！你取过瓶子里的东西没有？”

“确实没有。”

“那你为什么拿它？”

“我曾学过医，这类东西自然使我感兴趣。”

“啊！这么说毒药‘自然使你感兴趣’，是么？还有，你是等到独个人时才来满足你的‘兴趣’的吧？”

“那纯粹是巧合。即使其它人在那儿，我同样也会这么做的。”

“可是，这事发生的时候，其它人不在那儿吧？”

“是的，不过——”

“事实上，在那整个下午，你只有几分钟独自一人，而你对士的宁盐酸表现出‘自然的兴趣’，就发生——我说的是，就发生——在这几分钟内，是么？”

劳伦斯可怜地结结巴巴说：

“我——我——”

欧内斯特爵士露出满意的表情说道：

“我没有更多的东西要问你了，卡文迪什先生。”

这几分钟的盘问引起了法庭上的极大骚动。在座的许多衣着时髦的女人都忙忙碌碌地交头接耳着，她们的低语已经影响到这样的程度使得法官生气地威胁说要是再不立刻静下来，他就要把她们清除出庭了。

还有一件证据，请来了几位笔迹专家，就药店毒药出售登记簿上的“阿弗雷德·英格里桑”这个签名听取了他们的看法。他们都一致断言，这确实不是他本人的笔迹，他们的看法是，这也许是被告的笔迹。经过询问，他们承认这可能为被告所巧妙地伪造。

欧内斯特·海维韦萨爵土的、开始使案情有利于被告的讲话虽然不长，但是态度十分坚决有力。他说，在他漫长的经历中，从来都不知道凭这么一点证据可以控告一个人犯谋杀罪。它们不仅完全是一些次要的间接证据，而且其中极大部份实际上未经证实。让他们来看看他们听过的以及在公正地审查的这些证据吧，在被告房间的一只抽斗里发现了士的宁。正如他所指出的，这只抽斗并未上锁，他认为，并无证据证明把毒药藏在那儿的就是被告。事实上，这是某个第三者企图把罪名栽在被告身上的恶毒阴谋的一部分。检察当局拿不出一点证据来证实他们的论点：向派克森商店订购黑胡子的是被告。有关被告和他的后母之间发生的争吵，被告早已坦率地承认，但是这件事以及他在经济上的困境都被严重地夸大了。

他的同行——欧内斯特漫不经心地向菲利普斯点了点头——说，如果被告是个无辜的人，在警察法庭审讯时他就应该站出来解释清楚，争吵的是他，而不是英格里桑先生。他认为事实因而被歪曲了。真买的情况是这样的：星期二晚上，被告一回到家里，别人就非常可靠地告诉他，英格里桑夫妇俩发生了激烈的争吵。被告没有想到有人会有可能把他的声音错当作英格里桑的。他自然而然地也就断定他的后母有过两次争吵了。

检察当局断言，七月十六日，星期一那天，被告伪装成英格里桑先生去过村子里那家药店。恰恰相反，当时被告正在一个叫做马斯顿丛林的荒凉处所，他被一张匿名字条召唤到那儿，字条上都是讹诈的言词，威胁说，要是不照条子上的要求去做，就要向他的妻子揭露某些事情，因此被告到了指定的地点，可是在那儿空等了半个小时，之后才返回家来。不幸的是来回的路上没有碰到一个人可以证明他的故事的真实性，可是侥幸的是他还保存着那张字条，它可以作为证据。

至于有关烧毁遗嘱的供述，被告以前曾做过开业律师，他清楚地知道，一年前所立的那份于他有利的遗嘱，由于他的后母再嫁已经作废。他可以提出证据来表明是谁烧毁了这份遗嘱，从而也许有可能出现一个有关本案的全薪的见解。

最后，他给陪审团指出，除了约翰·卡文迪什外，还有着告发别人的证据。他要他们注意下列事实：告发劳伦斯·卡文迪什的证据如果说不比告发他的哥哥多的话，至少也是不相上下。

这时他刘被告招呼了一下。

约榆往被告席上表现得很好。在欧内斯特爵士巧妙的安排下，他令人信服、满意地叙述了自己去丛林的事。他拿出他收到的那张匿名字条，把它交给陪审团审查。他欣然承认了他在经济上的困难，以及和后母的意见不一，这对他的否认谋杀具有很大意义。

申述结束，他停顿了一下，说：

“有一件事我想要明确声明。我坚决拒绝、绝不赞同欧内斯特·海维韦萨爵士对我弟弟所暗示的怀疑。我认为，在这一罪行中，我的弟弟决不会比我做得更多。”

欧内斯特爵士只是微微一笑，他的锐利的目光注意到，约翰的抗辩已经在陪审团中产生了良好的印象。

接着，开始盘诘。

“我认为，你说的你没有想到审讯时的证人会有可能把你的声音错当作英格里桑先生的。这不使人感到非常奇怪么？”

“不，我不这样想，当时别人告诉我说我母亲和英格里桑先生之间发生了争吵，而我根本没有想到事情会不是真的这样。”

“当女佣人多卡斯复述了某些谈话片段之后——这些片段你理应记得——你也没有想到吗？”

“我不记得那些话。”

“你的记忆力谅必是很差的了！”

“不，而是因为当时我们两人都很生气，我想我们说的话比我门想要说的多。我很少主义我母亲实际说的话。”

菲利普斯先生的表示不相信的嗤鼻是辩论技本上的一大成就。他转到了字条的问题上。

“你这张字条交得非常及时。告诉我，这笔迹不熟悉么？”

“我不熟悉。”

“你不认为它和你的笔迹明显地相似么——经过仔细伪装的？”

“不，我不这样认为。”

“我要对你说，这是你自己的笔迹！”

“不。”

“我要对你说，是你为了急于要表明自己不在犯罪现场，想出了这个虚构的、相当不可信的约会的主意，并且自己写了这张字条以便证实你的供述！”

“不。”

“就在你自称在一个偏僻的、人迹罕到的处所空等着的时候，你实在是到了斯泰尔斯村的药店里，在那儿冒名阿弗雷德·英格里桑买了士的宁，这不是事实吗？”

“不，这是谎言！”

“我要对你说，是你穿了一套英格里桑先生的衣服，戴上修剪得象他一样的黑胡子，到了那儿——还以他的名义在登记簿上签了名！”

“这绝对不是事实。”

“那我将把这字条、登记簿上