the general public did——”

 

“I did,” I said ruefully. “I suppose I might as well make a clean breast of

things now. I went to see Ralph that afternoon. At first he refused to take me

into his confidence, but later he told me about his marriage, and the hole he

was in. As soon as the murder was discovered, I realized that once the facts

were known, suspicion could not fail to attach to Ralph—or, if not to him, to

the girl he loved. That night I put the facts plainly before him. The thought of

having possibly to give evidence which might incriminate his wife made him

resolve at all costs to—to——”

 

I hesitated, and Ralph filled up the gap.

 

“To do a bunk,” he said graphically. “You see, Ursula left me to go back to the

house. I thought it possible that she might have attempted to have another

interview with my stepfather. He had already been very rude to her that

afternoon. It occurred to me that he might have so insulted her—in such an

unforgivable manner—that without knowing what she was doing——”

 

He stopped. Ursula released her hand from his, and stepped back.

 

“You thought that, Ralph! You actually thought that I might have done it?”

 

“Let us get back to the culpable conduct of Dr. Sheppard,” said Poirot dryly.

“Dr. Sheppard consented to do what he could to help him. He was successful in