"And then?" said Poirot, looking at her keenly.

Lily Margrave nodded.

"Yes, M. Poirot, I know what you are thinking. Why didn't I give the alarm and raise the house? Ishould have done so, I know, but it came over me in a flash, as I knelt there, that my quarrel withSir Reuben, my stealing out to meet Humphrey, the fact that I was being sent away on the morrow,made a fatal sequence. They would say that I had let Humphrey in, and that Humphrey had killedSir Reuben out of revenge. If I said that I had seen Charles Leverson leaving the room, no onewould believe me.

"It was terrible, M. Poirot! I knelt there, and thought and thought, and the more I thought the moremy nerve failed me. Presently I noticed Sir Reuben's keys which had dropped from his pocket ashe fell. Among them was the key of the safe, the combination word I already knew, since LadyAstwell had mentioned it once in my hearing. I went over to that safe, M. Poirot, unlocked it andrummaged through the papers I found there.

"In the end I found what I was looking for. Humphrey had been perfectly right. Sir Reuben wasbehind the Mpala Gold Fields, and he had deliberately swindled Humphrey. That made it all theworse. It gave a perfectly definite motive for Humphrey having comitted the crime. I put thepapers back in the safe, left the key in the door of it, and went straight upstairs to my room. In themorning I pretended to be surprised and horror-stricken, like everyone else, when the housemaiddiscovered the body."She stopped and looked piteously across at Poirot.

"You do believe me, M. Poirot. Oh, do say you believe me!""I believe you, Mademoiselle," said Poirot; "you have explained many things that puzzled me.

Your absolute certainty, for one thing, that Charles Leverson had committed the crime and at thesame time your persistent efforts to keep me from coming down here."Lily nodded.

"I was afraid of you," she admitted frankly. "Lady Astwell could not know, as I did, that Charleswas guilty, and I couldn't say anything. I hoped against hope that you would refuse to take thecase.""But for that obvious anxiety on your part, I might have done so," said Poirot dryly.

Lily looked at him swiftly, her lips trembled a little.

"And now, M. Poirot, what - what are you going to do?""As far as you are concerned, Mademoiselle, nothing. I believe your story, and I accept it. Thenext step is to go to London and see Inspector Miller.""And then?" asked Lily.

"And then," said Poirot, "we shall see."

Outside the door of the study he looked once more at the little square of stained green chiffonwhich he held in his hand.

"Amazing," he murmured to himself complacently, "the ingenuity of Hercule Poirot."Detective Inspector Miller was not particularly fond of M. Hercule Poirot. He did not belong tothat small band of inspectors at the Yard who welcomed the little Belgian's cooperation. He waswont to say that Hercule Poirot was much overrated. In this case he felt pretty sure of himself, andgreeted Poirot with high good humor in consequence.

"Acting for Lady Astwell, are you? Well, you have taken up a mare's nest in that case.""There is, then, no possible doubt about the matter?"Miller winked. "Never was a clearer case, short of catching a murderer absolutely red-handed.""M. Leverson has made a statement, I understand?""He had better have kept his mouth shut," said the detective. "He repeats over and over again thathe went straight up to his room and never went near his uncle. That's a fool story on the face of it.""It is certainly against the weight of evidence," murmured Poirot. "How does he strike you, thisyoung M. Leverson?""Darned young fool."

"A weak character, eh?"

The inspector nodded.

"One would hardly think a young man of that type would have the - how do you say it - the bowelsto commit such a crime.""On the face of it, no," agreed the inspector. "But, bless you, I have come across the same thingmany times. Get a weak, dissipated young man into a corner, fill him up with a drop too much todrink, and for a limited amount of time you can turn him into a fire-eater. A weak man in a corneris more dangerous than a strong man.""That is true, yes; that is true what you say."Miller unbent a little further.

"Of course, it is all right for you, M. Poirot," he said. "You get your fees just the same, andnaturally you have to make a pretense of examining the evidence to satisfy her Ladyship. I canunderstand all that.""You understand such interesting things," murmured Poirot, and took his leave.

His next call was upon the solicitor representing Charles Leverson. Mr Mayhew was a thin, dry,cautious gentleman. He received Poirot with reserve. Poirot, however, had his own ways ofinducing confidence. In ten minutes' time the two were talking together amicably.

"You will understand," said Poirot, "I am acting in this case solely on behalf of M. Leverson. Thatis Lady Astwell's wish. She is convinced that he is not guilty.""Yes, yes, quite so," said Mr Mayhew without enthusiasm. Poirot's eyes twinkled. "You do notperhaps attach much importance to the opinions, of Lady Astwell?" he suggested.

"She might be just as sure of his guilt tomorrow," said the lawyer dryly.

"Her intuitions are not evidence certainly," agreed Poirot, "and on the face of it the case looks veryblack against this poor young man.""It is a pity he said what he did to the police," said the lawyer; "it will be no good his sticking tothat story.""Has he stuck to it with you?" inquired Poirot.

Mayhew nodded. "It never varies an iota. He repeats it like a parrot.""And that is what destroys your faith in him," mused the other. "Ah, don't deny it," he addedquickly, holding up an arresting hand. "I see it only too plainly. In your heart you believe himguilty. But listen now to me, to me, Hercule Poirot. I present to you a case.

"This young man comes home, he has drunk the cocktail, the cocktail, and again the cocktail, alsowithout doubt the English whisky and soda many times. He is full of, what you call it? the courageDutch, and in that mood he lets himself into the house with his latchkey, and he goes withunsteady steps up to the Tower room. He looks in at the door and sees in the dim light his uncle,apparently bending over the desk.

"M. Leverson is full, as we have said, of the courage Dutch. He lets himself go, he tells his unclejust what he thinks of him. He defies him, he insults him, and the more his uncle does not answerback, the more he is encouraged to go on, to repeat himself, to say the same thing over and overagain, and each time more loudly. But at last the continued silence of his uncle awakens anapprehension. He goes nearer to him, he lays his hand on his uncle's shoulder, and his uncle'sfigure crumples under his touch and sinks in a heap to the ground.

"He is sobered, then, this M. Leverson. The chair falls with a crash, and he bends over Sir Reuben.

He realizes what has happened, he looks at his hand covered with something warm and red. He isin a panic then, he would give anything on earth to recall the cry which has just sprung from hislips, echoing through the house. Mechanically he picks up the chair, then he hastens out throughthe door and listens. He fancies he hears a sound, and immediately, automatically, he pretends tobe speaking to his uncle through the open door.