“Well then,” I blurted out, “it’s absurd⁠—but I suspect Miss Howard of not telling all she knows!”

“Miss Howard?”

“Yes⁠—you’ll laugh at me⁠—”

“Not at all. Why should I?”

“I can’t help feeling,” I continued blunderingly; “that we’ve rather left her out of the possible suspects, simply on the strength of her having been away from the place. But, after all, she was only fifteen miles away. A car would do it in half an hour. Can we say positively that she was away from Styles on the night of the murder?”

“Yes, my friend,” said Poirot unexpectedly, “we can. One of my first actions was to ring up the hospital where she was working.”

“Well?”