“For the moment, yes. You will walk back with me to the village?”

“Willingly.”

He picked up his little suitcase, and we went out through the open window in the drawing-room. Cynthia Murdoch was just coming in, and Poirot stood aside to let her pass.

“Excuse me, mademoiselle, one minute.”

“Yes?” she turned inquiringly.

“Did you ever make up Mrs. Inglethorp’s medicines?”

A slight flush rose in her face, as she answered rather constrainedly:

“No.”

“Only her powders?”