Mrs. Ackroyd shut her eyes in anguish. I began to wonder how soon I should be able to deliver Poirot’s invitation. Before I had time to speak, Mrs. Ackroyd was off again.

“You were here yesterday, weren’t you, with that dreadful Inspector Raglan? Brute of a man⁠—he terrified Flora into saying she took that money from poor Roger’s room. And the matter was so simple, really. The dear child wanted to borrow a few pounds, didn’t like to disturb her uncle since he’d given strict orders against it, but knowing where he kept his notes she went there and took what she needed.”

“Is that Flora’s account of the matter?” I asked.