VThere was a tap on the door.

“Come in,” said Weston.

It was Captain Marshall.

He said:

“Can you tell me what arrangements I can make about the funeral?”

“I think we shall manage the inquest for the day after tomorrow, Captain Marshall.”

“Thank you.”

Inspector Colgate said:

“Excuse me, sir, allow me to return you these.”

He handed over the three letters.

Kenneth Marshall smiled rather sardonically.

He said:

“Has the police department been testing the speed of my typing? I hope my character iscleared.”

Colonel Weston said pleasantly.

“Yes, Captain Marshall, I think we can give you a clean bill of health. Those sheets take fullyan hour to type. Moreover you were heard typing them by the chambermaid up till five minutes toeleven and you were seen by another witness at twenty minutes past.”

Captain Marshall murmured:

“Really? That all seems very satisfactory!”

“Yes. Miss Darnley came to your room at twenty minutes past eleven. You were so busy typingthat you did not observe her entry.”

Kenneth Marshall’s face took on an impassive expression. He said:

“Does Miss Darnley say that?” He paused. “As a matter of fact she is wrong. I did see her,though she may not be aware of the fact. I saw her in the mirror.”

Poirot murmured:

“But you did not interrupt your typing?”

Marshall said shortly:

“No. I wanted to get finished.”

He paused a minute, then, in an abrupt voice, he said:

“Nothing more I can do for you?”

“No, thank you, Captain Marshall.”

Kenneth Marshall nodded and went out.

Weston said with a sigh:

“There goes our most hopeful suspect—cleared! Hullo, here’s Neasden.”

The doctor came in with a trace of excitement in his manner. He said:

“That’s a nice little death lot you sent me along.”

“What is it?”

“What is it? Diamorphine Hydrochloride. Stuff that’s usually called Heroin.”

Inspector Colgate whistled. He said:

“Now we’re getting places, all right! Depend upon it, this dope stunt is at the bottom of thewhole business.”