She glanced sideways at me. The position was now very delicate indeed. Fortunately words, ingeniously used, will serve to mask the ugliness of naked facts.

“I could only tell this to you, dear Dr. Sheppard,” said Mrs. Ackroyd rapidly. “I can trust you not to misjudge me, and to represent the matter in the right light to M. Poirot. It was on Friday afternoon⁠—”

She came to a stop and swallowed uncertainly.

“Yes,” I repeated encouragingly. “On Friday afternoon. Well?”