I took it from him.

 

“Look inside,” commanded Poirot.

 

I did so. Inside was an inscription in fine writing:—

 

_From R., March 13th._

 

I looked at Poirot, but he was busy inspecting his appearance in a tiny pocket

glass. He paid particular attention to his mustaches, and none at all to me. I

saw that he did not intend to be communicative.

 

CHAPTER X

 

THE PARLORMAID

 

We found Mrs. Ackroyd in the hall. With her was a small dried-up little man,

with an aggressive chin and sharp gray eyes, and “lawyer” written all over him.

 

“Mr. Hammond is staying to lunch with us,” said Mrs. Ackroyd. “You know Major

Blunt, Mr. Hammond? And dear Dr. Sheppard—also a close friend of poor Roger’s.

And, let me see——”

 

She paused, surveying Hercule Poirot in some perplexity.