minutes past nine, and I also heard of a certain conversation which had taken place in the wood near the village that very afternoon—a conversation between Ralph Paton and some unknown girl. So I had my facts succeeding each other in a neat and orderly manner. A secret marriage, an engagement announced on the day of the tragedy, the stormy interview in the wood, and the meeting arranged for the summerhouse that night.
“Incidentally this proved to me one thing, that both Ralph Paton and Ursula Bourne (or Paton) had the strongest motives for wishing Mr. Ackroyd out of the way. And it also made one other point unexpectedly clear. It could not have been Ralph Paton who was with Mr. Ackroyd in the study at nine-thirty.
“So we come to another and most interesting aspect of the crime. Who was it in the room with Mr. Ackroyd at nine-thirty? Not Ralph Paton, who was in the summerhouse with his wife. Not Charles Kent, who had already left. Who, then? I posed my cleverest—my most audacious question: Was anyone with him ?”
Poirot leaned forward and shot the last words triumphantly at us, drawing back afterwards with the air of one who has made a decided hit.
Raymond, however, did not seem impressed, and lodged a mild protest. “I don’t know if you’re trying to make me out a liar, M. Poirot, but the matter does not rest on my evidence alone except perhaps as to the exact words used. Remember, Major Blunt also heard Mr. Ackroyd talking to someone. He was on the terrace outside, and couldn’t catch the words clearly, but he distinctly heard the voices.”
Poirot nodded. “I have not forgotten,” he said quietly. “But Major Blunt was under the impression that it was you to whom Mr. Ackroyd was speaking.”