servants to see me, so I slipped out through the drawing-room window. As I came

back, I met Dr. Sheppard, and I fancied that he would think it queer. I was out

of breath, for I had been running. I had no idea that he was expected to dinner

that night.”

 

She paused.

 

“Go on,” said Poirot. “You went out to meet him at ten minutes past nine. What

did you say to each other?”

 

“It’s difficult. You see——”

 

“Mademoiselle,” said Poirot, interrupting her, “in this matter I must have the

whole truth. What you tell us need never go beyond these four walls. Dr.

Sheppard will be discreet, and so shall I. See, I will help you. This Charles

Kent, he is your son, is he not?”

 

She nodded. The color had flamed into her cheeks.

 

“No one has ever known. It was long ago—long ago—down in Kent. I was not

married....”

 

“So you took the name of the county as a surname for him. I understand.”

 

“I got work. I managed to pay for his board and lodging. I never told him that I