" , sir very nice gentleman , sir And quite different class two detectives from London, what goes prying about, and asking questions I don't hold with foreigners as rule, but from what the newspapers say I make out as how these brave Belges isn't the ordinary run of foreigners, and certainly he's most polite spoken gentleman ''

Dear old Dorcas ! As she stood there, with her honest face upturned to mine, what fine specimen she was old-fashioned servant so fast dying out

go down village at once, and look up Poirot; but I met him half-way, coming house, and at once gave him Dorcas's message

"Ah, the brave Dorcas ! look chest, although -- but no matter -- examine it all the same ''

We entered the house by windows no one hall, and we went straight attic

Sure enough, the chest, fine old piece, all studded with brass nails, and full to overflowing with every imaginable type of garment

Poirot bundled everything out floor with scant ceremony There were green fabrics of varying shades; but Poirot shook his head over them all somewhat apathetic search, he expected no great results Suddenly an exclamation

" it ? ''

"Look ! ''

The chest was nearly empty, and there, reposing right bottom, was magnificent black beard

"Ohó ! '' said Poirot "Ohó ! '' He turned it over hands, examining it closely "New,'' he remarked "Yes, quite new ''

After moment's hesitation, he replaced it chest, heaped all the other things on top of it as before, and made his way briskly downstairs He went straight pantry, where Dorcas busily polishing her silver

Poirot wished her good morning with Gallic politeness, and went on:

" looking chest, Dorcas much obliged for mentioning it , indeed, fine collection there Are they often used, may I ask ? ''

"Well, sir, not very often nowadays, though have what the young gentlemen call 'a dress-up night ' And very funny sometimes, sir Mr Lawrence, he's wonderful Most comic ! never forget the night down Char of Persia, it -- sort of Eastern King He had the big paper knife hand, and 'Mind, Dorcas,' , 'you'll have very respectful my specially sharpened scimitar, and it's off with your head if I'm at all displeased ! ' Miss Cynthia, she was what they call an Apache, or some such name -- Frenchified sort of cut-throat, I take it real sight she looked You'd never have believed pretty young lady like that made herself into such ruffian Nobody known her ''

"These evenings must great fun,'' said Poirot genially "I suppose Mr Lawrence wore that fine black beard chest upstairs, when Shah of Persia ? ''

" have beard, sir,'' replied Dorcas, smiling "And well it, for he borrowed two skeins black wool it with ! And I'm sure it looked wonderfully natural at distance I didn't know beard up there at all It must got quite lately, red wig, , but nothing else way of hair Burnt corks they use mostly -- though 'tis messy getting it off again Miss Cynthia was nigger once, and, oh, the trouble she had ''

"So Dorcas knows nothing black beard,'' said Poirot thoughtfully, walked out hall again

" one ? '' I whispered eagerly

Poirot nodded

" You notice it trimmed ? ''

"No ''

"Yes cut exactly the shape of Mr Inglethorp's, and snipped hairs Hastings, this affair is very deep ''

"Who put it chest, I wonder ? ''

"Some one with of intelligence,'' remarked Poirot dryly "You he chose the one place house to hide it where its presence remarked ? Yes, intelligent But more intelligent so intelligent that suspect us of being intelligent at all ''

I acquiesced

"There, mon ami, of great assistance ''

pleased compliment There times when I hardly thought that Poirot appreciated me at my true worth

"Yes,'' he continued, staring at me thoughtfully, " invaluable ''

naturally gratifying, but Poirot's next words so welcome

" an ally house,'' he observed reflectively

" me,'' I protested

"True, but sufficient ''

hurt, and showed it Poirot hurried to explain himself

" quite take my meaning known working with me somebody associated in ''

"Oh, How about John ? ''

"No, not ''

"The dear fellow isn't perhaps very bright,'' thoughtfully

"Here comes Miss Howard,'' said Poirot suddenly " the very person But in her black books, since I cleared Mr Inglethorp Still, but try ''

With nod that was barely civil, Miss Howard assented to Poirot's request ' conversation

We went little morning-room, and Poirot closed the door

"Well, Monsieur Poirot,'' said Miss Howard impatiently, " it ? Out with it I'm busy ''

" remember, mademoiselle, that I once asked you to help me ? ''

"Yes, '' The lady nodded "And you I'd with pleasure -- to hang Alfred Inglethorp ''

"Ah ! '' Poirot studied her seriously "Miss Howard, one question I beg of you to reply truthfully ''

"Never tell lies,'' replied Miss Howard

"It still believe that Mrs Inglethorp was poisoned by her husband ? ''

"What ? '' she asked sharply "You needn't think your pretty explanations influence me slightest I'll admit wasn't he who bought strychnine chemist's shop What ? I dare say he soaked fly paper, as you beginning ''

" arsenic -- not strychnine,'' said Poirot mildly

"What does that matter ? Arsenic would put poor Emily way just as strychnine If I'm convinced it, it doesn't matter jot how it ''

"Exactly convinced it,'' said Poirot quietly " put my question in another form Did you ever in your heart of hearts believe that Mrs Inglethorp was poisoned by her husband ? ''

"Good heavens ! '' cried Miss Howard "Haven't I always told you the man is villain ? Haven't I always told you murder her in her bed ? Haven't I always hated him like poison ? ''

"Exactly,'' said Poirot "That bears out my little idea entirely ''

"What little idea ? ''

"Miss Howard, remember conversation that took place day friend's arrival here ? He repeated it , and sentence of yours that has impressed me remember affirming that if crime committed, and anyone you loved murdered, you felt certain that know by instinct who the criminal was, even were quite unable it ? ''

"Yes, I remember saying that I believe it too I suppose it nonsense ? ''

"Not at all ''

"And yet pay no attention to my instinct against Alfred Inglethorp ''

"No,'' said Poirot curtly "Because your instinct against Mr Inglethorp ''

"What ? ''

"No You wish he committed the crime You believe him capable of committing it But your instinct tells you commit it It tells you more -- shall I go on ? ''

She was staring at him, fascinated, and made slight affirmative movement hand