“Will you come with us, Monsieur Poirot? We are going through my mother’s papers. Mr. Inglethorp is quite willing to leave it entirely to Mr. Wells and myself.”

“Which simplifies matters very much,” murmured the lawyer. “As technically, of course, he was entitled⁠—” He did not finish the sentence.

“We will look through the desk in the boudoir first,” explained John, “and go up to her bedroom afterwards. She kept her most important papers in a purple despatch-case, which we must look through carefully.”

“Yes,” said the lawyer, “it is quite possible that there may be a later will than the one in my possession.”

“There is a later will.” It was Poirot who spoke.

“What?” John and the lawyer looked at him startled.