may be lying.”

 

I raised my eyebrows.

 

“Rather a suspicious attitude.”

 

“But necessary—I assure you, necessary. Now first—Dr. Sheppard leaves the house

at ten minutes to nine. How do I know that?”

 

“Because I told you so.”

 

“But you might not be speaking the truth—or the watch you went by might be

wrong. But Parker also says that you left the house at ten minutes to nine. So

we accept that statement and pass on. At nine o’clock you run into a man—and

here we come to what we will call the Romance of the Mysterious Stranger—just

outside the Park gates. How do I know that that is so?”

 

“I told you so,” I began again, but Poirot interrupted me with a gesture of

impatience.

 

“Ah! but it is that you are a little stupid to-night, my friend. _You_ know that

it is so—but how am _I_ to know? _Eh bien_, I am able to tell you that the

Mysterious Stranger was not a hallucination on your part, because the maid of a

Miss Ganett met him a few minutes before you did, and of her too he inquired the

way to Fernly Park. We accept his presence, therefore, and we can be fairly sure