should never have thought of it), leaves the essential position unchanged. Mr. Ackroyd was alive at nine-thirty, since he was speaking into the dictaphone. It seems clear that the man Charles Kent was really off the premises by then. As to Ralph Paton—?”
He hesitated, glancing at Ursula.
Her colour flared up, but she answered steadily enough.
“Ralph and I parted just before a quarter to ten. He never went near the house, I am sure of that. He had no intention of doing so. The last thing on earth he wanted was to face his stepfather. He would have flunked it badly.”
“It isn’t that I doubt your story for a moment,” explained Raymond. “I’ve always been quite sure Captain Paton was innocent. But one has to think of a court of law—and the questions that would be asked. He is in a most unfortunate position, but if he were to come forward—”
Poirot interrupted.
“That is your advice, yes? That he should come forward?”
“Certainly. If you know where he is—”
“I perceive that you do not believe that I do know. And yet I have told you just now that I know everything. The truth of the telephone call, of the footprints on the windowsill, of the hiding place of Ralph Paton—”
“Where is he?” said Blunt sharply.
“Not very far away,” said Poirot, smiling.
“In Cranchester?” I asked.
Poirot turned towards me.