his dry lips. His face was working curiously.
“It’s all over the village about old Mrs. Inglethorp dying so suddenly. They do say—” he lowered his voice cautiously—“that it’s poison?”
Poirot’s face remained quite impassive.
“Only the doctors can tell us that, Mr. Mace.”
“Yes, exactly—of course–-” The young man hesitated, and then his agitation was too much for him. He clutched Poirot by the arm, and sank his voice to a whisper: “Just tell me this,
his dry lips. His face was working curiously.
“It’s all over the village about old Mrs. Inglethorp dying so suddenly. They do say—” he lowered his voice cautiously—“that it’s poison?”
Poirot’s face remained quite impassive.
“Only the doctors can tell us that, Mr. Mace.”
“Yes, exactly—of course–-” The young man hesitated, and then his agitation was too much for him. He clutched Poirot by the arm, and sank his voice to a whisper: “Just tell me this,
