“A Home Office expert,” she breathed.

 

“A Home Office expert,” I said, amazed. “My dear Caroline!”

 

“Mark my words, James, you’ll see that I’m right. That Russell woman was here

that morning after your poisons. Roger Ackroyd might easily have been poisoned

in his food that night.”

 

I laughed out loud.

 

“Nonsense,” I cried. “He was stabbed in the neck. You know that as well as I

do.”

 

“After death, James,” said Caroline; “to make a false clew.”

 

“My good woman,” I said, “I examined the body, and I know what I’m talking

about. That wound wasn’t inflicted after death—it was the cause of death, and

you need make no mistake about it.”

 

Caroline merely continued to look omniscient, which so annoyed me that I went

on:—

 

“Perhaps you will tell me, Caroline, if I have a medical degree or if I have

not?”