“Oh, of course; well, we all use them, I suppose.”

 

“In a greater or lesser degree,” murmured Poirot. “And there are, too,

differences in quality. Then there is the psychology of a crime. One must study

that.”

 

“Ah!” said the inspector, “you’ve been bitten with all this psychoanalysis

stuff? Now, I’m a plain man——”

 

“Mrs. Raglan would not agree, I am sure, to that,” said Poirot, making him a

little bow.

 

Inspector Raglan, a little taken aback, bowed.

 

“You don’t understand,” he said, grinning broadly. “Lord, what a lot of

difference language makes. I’m telling you how I set to work. First of all,

method. Mr. Ackroyd was last seen alive at a quarter to ten by his niece, Miss

Flora Ackroyd. That’s fact number one, isn’t it?”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“Well, it is. At half-past ten, the doctor here says that Mr. Ackroyd has been

dead at least half an hour. You stick to that, doctor?”