“I did, did I?”

 

“Do you admit it?” asked the inspector.

 

“I don’t admit anything. Not till I know what you’ve got on me.”

 

“Have you not read the papers in the last few days?” asked Poirot, speaking for

the first time.

 

The man’s eyes narrowed.

 

“So that’s it, is it? I saw an old gent had been croaked at Fernly.

 

Trying to make out I did the job, are you?”

 

“You were there that night,” said Poirot quietly.

 

“How do you know, mister?”

 

“By this.” Poirot took something from his pocket and held it out.

 

It was the goose quill we had found in the summer-house.

 

At the sight of it the man’s face changed. He half held out his hand.