Motioning to me to follow him, he ran swiftly down the stairs and opened the door. Mr. Mace began at once.

“Oh, Mr. Poirot, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I heard that you’d just come back from the Hall?”

“Yes, we have.”

The young man moistened his dry lips. His face was working curiously.

“It’s all over the village about old Mrs. Inglethorp dying so suddenly. They do say⁠—” he lowered his voice cautiously⁠—“that it’s poison?”

Poirot’s face remained quite impassive.