I don’t know what put such a wild—such a dreadful—idea into my head!”
“I am right, am I not?” asked Poirot.
“Yes, yes; you must be a wizard to have guessed. But it can’t be so—it’s too monstrous, too impossible. It must be Alfred Inglethorp.”
Poirot shook his head gravely.
“Don’t ask me about it,” continued Miss Howard, “because I shan’t tell you. I won’t admit it, even to myself. I must be mad to think of such a thing.”
I don’t know what put such a wild—such a dreadful—idea into my head!”
“I am right, am I not?” asked Poirot.
“Yes, yes; you must be a wizard to have guessed. But it can’t be so—it’s too monstrous, too impossible. It must be Alfred Inglethorp.”
Poirot shook his head gravely.
“Don’t ask me about it,” continued Miss Howard, “because I shan’t tell you. I won’t admit it, even to myself. I must be mad to think of such a thing.”
