“That’s out of the question,” I said. “Miss Ackroyd saw her uncle alive at a quarter to ten.”

She turned away, and her whole figure seemed to droop.

“A handsome girl,” I said to myself as I drove off. “An exceedingly handsome girl.”

Caroline was at home. She had had a visit from Poirot and was very pleased and important about it.

“I am helping him with the case,” she explained.

I felt rather uneasy. Caroline is bad enough as it is. What will she be like with her detective instincts encouraged?

“Are you going round the neighbourhood looking for Ralph Paton’s mysterious girl?” I inquired.

“I might do that on my own account,” said Caroline. “No, this is a special thing M. Poirot wants me to find out for him.”