over the beautiful expanse
of park, still glittering with morning dew.
"So beautiful, so beautiful, and yet, the poor family, plunged in
sorrow, prostrated with grief."
He looked at me keenly as he spoke, and I was aware that I reddened
under his prolonged gaze.
Was the family prostrated by grief? Was the sorrow at Mrs. Inglethorp's
death so great? I realized that there was an emotional lack in the
atmosphere. The dead woman had not the gift of commanding love. Her
death was a shock and a distress, but she would not be passionately
regretted.
Poirot seemed to follow my thoughts. He nodded his head gravely.
"No, you are right," he said, "it is not as though there was a blood
tie. She has been kind and generous to these Cavendishes, but she was
not their own mother. Blood tells--always remember that--blood tells."
"Poirot," I said, "I wish you would tell me why you wanted to know if
Mrs. Inglethorp ate well last night? I have been turning it over in my
mind, but I can't see how it has anything to do with the matter?"
He was silent for a minute or two as we walked along, but finally he
said:
"I do not mind telling you--though, as you know, it is not my habit to
explain until the end is reached. The present contention is that Mrs.
Inglethorp died of strychnine poisoning, presumably administered in her
coffee."
"Yes?"
"Well, what time was the coffee served?"
"About eight o'clock."
"Therefore she drank it between then and half-past eight--certainly not
much later. Well, strychnine is a fairly rapid poison. Its effects would
be felt very soon, probably in about an hour. Yet, in Mrs. Inglethorp's
case, the symptoms do not manifest themselves until five o'clock the
next morning: nine hours! But a heavy meal, taken at about the same time
as the poison, might retard its effects, though hardly to that extent.
Still, it is a possibility to be taken into account. But, according to
you, she ate very little for supper, and yet the symptoms do not develop
until early the next morning! Now that is a curious circumstance,
my friend. Something may arise at the autopsy to explain it. In the
meantime, remember it."
As we neared the house, John came out and met us. His face looked weary
and haggard.
"This is a very dreadful business, Monsieur Poirot," he said. "Hastings
has explained to you that we are anxious for no publicity?"
"I comprehend perfectly."
"You see, it is only suspicion so far. We have noth
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