things as they are? The police don’t suspect Ralph in the least, remember.

They’re working on quite another tack.”

 

“But that’s just _it_,” cried the girl. “They _do_ suspect him. A man from

Cranchester turned up this morning—Inspector Raglan, a horrid, weaselly little

man. I found he had been to the Three Boars this morning before me. They told me

all about his having been there, and the questions he had asked. He must think

Ralph did it.”

 

“That’s a change of mind from last night, if so,” I said slowly. “He doesn’t

believe in Davis’s theory that it was Parker then?”

 

“Parker indeed,” said my sister, and snorted.

 

Flora came forward and laid her hand on my arm.

 

“Oh! Dr. Sheppard, let us go at once to this M. Poirot. He will find out the

truth.”

 

“My dear Flora,” I said gently, laying my hand on hers. “Are you quite sure it

is the truth we want?”

 

She looked at me, nodding her head gravely.

 

“You’re not sure,” she said. “I am. I know Ralph better than you do.”