XIII

“But I did, my friend. Several hints. You would not take them. Think now, did I ever say to you that I believed John Cavendish guilty? Did I not, on the contrary, tell you that he would almost certainly be acquitted?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“And did I not immediately afterwards speak of the difficulty of bringing the murderer to justice? Was it not plain to you that I was speaking of two entirely different persons?”

“No,” I said, “it was not plain to me!”

“Then again,” continued Poirot, “at the beginning, did I not repeat to you several times that I didn’t want Mr. Inglethorp arrested now ? That should have conveyed something to you.”

“Do you mean to say you suspected him as long ago as that?”

“Yes. To begin with, whoever else might benefit by Mrs. Inglethorp’s death, her husband would benefit the most. There was no getting away from that. When I went up to Styles with you that first day, I had no idea as to how the crime had been committed, but from what I knew of Mr. Inglethorp I fancied that it would be very hard to find anything to connect him with it. When I arrived at the château, I realized at once that it was Mrs. Inglethorp who had burnt the will; and there, by the way, you cannot complain, my friend, for I tried my best to force on you the significance of that bedroom fire in midsummer.”

“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “Go on.”

“Well, my friend, as I say, my views as to Mr. Inglethorp’s guilt were very much shaken. There was, in fact, so much evidence against him that I was inclined to believe that he had not done it.”

“When did you change your mind?”