table unnoticed by the other people in the room. But a dictaphone has a certain

bulk—it cannot be slipped casually into a pocket. There must have been a

receptacle of some kind capable of holding it.

 

“You see where I am arriving? The figure of the murderer is taking shape. A

person who was on the scene straightway, but who might not have been if the

crime had been discovered the following morning.

 

A person carrying a receptacle into which the dictaphone might be fitted——”

 

I interrupted.

 

“But why remove the dictaphone? What was the point?”

 

“You are like Mr. Raymond. You take it for granted that what was heard at

nine-thirty was Mr. Ackroyd’s voice speaking into a dictaphone. But consider

this useful invention for a little minute. You dictate into it, do you not? And

at some later time a secretary or a typist turns it on, and the voice speaks

again.”

 

“You mean——” I gasped.

 

Poirot nodded.

 

“Yes, I mean that. _At nine-thirty Mr. Ackroyd was already dead._ It was the