didn’t—I didn’t kill him.”

 

His voice rose almost to a scream.

 

“I am inclined to believe you, my friend,” said Poirot. “You have not the

nerve—the courage. But I must have the truth.”

 

“I’ll tell you anything, sir, anything you want to know. It’s true that I tried

to listen that night. A word or two I heard made me curious.

 

And Mr. Ackroyd’s wanting not to be disturbed, and shutting himself up with the

doctor the way he did. It’s God’s own truth what I told the police. I heard the

word blackmail, sir, and well——”

 

He paused.

 

“You thought there might be something in it for you?” suggested Poirot smoothly.

 

“Well—well, yes, I did, sir. I thought that if Mr. Ackroyd was being

blackmailed, why shouldn’t I have a share of the pickings?”

 

A very curious expression passed over Poirot’s face. He leaned forward.

 

“Had you any reason to suppose before that night that Mr. Ackroyd was being

blackmailed?”