first believed that you had simply invented the story. It was a very clever

touch, that. You must have some excuse for arriving at Fernly, finding the body,

and so getting the chance to remove the dictaphone on which your alibi depended.

I had a very vague notion of how it was worked when I came to see your sister

that first day and inquired as to what patients you had seen on Friday morning.

I had no thought of Miss Russell in my mind at that time. Her visit was a lucky

coincidence, since it distracted your mind from the real object of my questions.

I found what I was looking for. Among your patients that morning was the steward

of an American liner. Who more suitable than he to be leaving for Liverpool by

the train that evening? And afterwards he would be on the high seas, well out of

the way. I noted that the _Orion_ sailed on Saturday, and having obtained the

name of the steward I sent him a wireless message asking a certain question.

 

This is his reply you saw me receive just now.”

 

He held out the message to me. It ran as follows—

 

“Quite correct. Dr. Sheppard asked me to leave a note at a patient’s house. I

was to ring him up from the station with the reply. Reply was ‘No answer.’”

 

* * * * *

 

“It was a clever idea,” said Poirot. “The call was genuine. Your sister saw you

take it. But there was only one man’s word as to what was actually said—your

own!”