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Chapter IV. Poirot Investigates
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“Whatisagreatdiscovery?”
“Why,thatitwasthecocoaandnotthecoffeethatwaspoisoned.Thatexplainseverything!Ofcourseitdidnottakeeffectuntiltheearlymorning,sincethecocoawasonlydrunkinthemiddleofthenight.”
“Soyouthinkthatthecocoa—markwellwhatIsay,Hastings,thecocoa—containedstrychnine?”
“Ofcourse!Thatsaltonthetray,whatelsecouldithavebeen?”
“Itmighthavebeensalt,”repliedPoirotplacidly.
Ishruggedmyshoulders.Ifhewasgoingtotakethematterthatway,itwasnogoodarguingwithhim.Theideacrossedmymind,notforthefirsttime,thatpooroldPoirotwasgrowingold.PrivatelyIthoughtitluckythathehadassociatedwithhimsomeoneofamorereceptivetypeofmind.
Poirotwassurveyingmewithquietlytwinklingeyes.
“Youarenotpleasedwithme,monami?”
“MydearPoirot,”Isaidcoldly,“itisnotformetodictatetoyou.Youhavearighttoyourownopinion,justasIhavetomine.”
“Amostadmirablesentiment,”remarkedPoirot,risingbrisklytohisfeet.“NowIhavefinishedwiththisroom.Bytheway,whoseisthesmallerdeskinthecorner?”
“Mr.Inglethorp’s.”
“Ah!”Hetriedtherolltoptentatively.“Locked.ButperhapsoneofMrs.Inglethorp’skeyswouldopenit.”Hetriedseveral,twistingandturningthemwithapracticedhand,andfinallyutteringanejaculationofsatisfaction.“Voilà!Itisnotthekey,butitwillopenitatapinch.”Heslidbacktherolltop,andranarapideyeovertheneatlyfiledpapers
