“No one would think of looking there,” Poirot continued. “And he will be able, at his leisure, to come back and destroy this solitary piece of evidence against him.”

“Then, all the time, it was in the spill vase in Mrs. Inglethorp’s bedroom, under our very noses?” I cried.

Poirot nodded.

“Yes, my friend. That is where I discovered my ‘last link,’ and I owe that very fortunate discovery to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes. Do you remember telling me that my hand shook as I was straightening the ornaments on the mantelpiece?”

“Yes, but I don’t see⁠—”