orders.

 

“Ah! he knows something, the good Parker,” cried Poirot. “He has read of these

things. Now, I beg you, let us have everything of the most exact. You came from

the outer hall—so. Mademoiselle was—where?”

 

“Here,” said Flora, taking up her stand just outside the study door.

 

“Quite right, sir,” said Parker.

 

“I had just closed the door,” continued Flora.

 

“Yes, miss,” agreed Parker. “Your hand was still on the handle as it is now.”

 

“Then _allez_,” said Poirot. “Play me the little comedy.”

 

Flora stood with her hand on the door handle, and Parker came stepping through

the door from the hall, bearing the tray.

 

He stopped just inside the door. Flora spoke.

 

“Oh! Parker. Mr. Ackroyd doesn’t want to be disturbed again to-night.”

 

“Is that right?” she added in an undertone.