"Flora Ackroyd is here," she announced in an excited whisper.

On the following morning I hurried unforgivably over my round. My excuse can be that I had no very serious cases to attend. On my return Caroline came into the hall to greet me.

"She's very anxious to see you. She's been here half an hour." Caroline led the way into our small sitting-room, and I followed.

"What?" I concealed my surprise as best as I could.

"Dr Sheppard, I have come to ask you to help me?"

I don't think Flora really wished Caroline to be present at the interview. She would, I am sure, have infinitely preferred to speak to me privately. But she also wanted to waste no time, so she made the best of it.

Flora was sitting on the sofa by the window. She was in black and she sat nervously twisting her hands together. I was shocked by the sight of her face. All the colour had faded away from it. But when she spoke her manner was as composed and resolute as possible.

"Of course he'll help you, my dear," said Caroline.

"I want you to come to The Larches with me."

"So that's who he is," I said slowly.

Flora's blue eyes opened very wide.

"You want to go and see him?" I asked slowly. "Now why?"

"You've heard of him, of course?"

"Yes. You know who he is, don't you?"

"Extraordinary!" commented Caroline.

"To see that funny little man?" exclaimed Caroline.

"The Larches?" I queried, surprised.

I don't know what she was referring to -- possibly her own failure to discover the truth.

"Why, he's Hercule Poirot! You know who I mean -- the private detective. They say he's done the most wonderful things -- just like detectives do in books. A year ago he retired and came to live down here. Uncle knew who he was, but he promised not to tell anyone, because M. Poirot wanted to live quietly without being bothered by people."

"I'm rather an old fogey, as Caroline tells me," I said," but I have just heard of him."

"To get him to investigate this murder, of course," said Caroline sharply. "Don't be so stupid, James."

"We fancied," I said, "that he might be a retired hairdresser."

"You are sure you are doing wisely?" I asked gravely.

She knows the value of being direct on certain occasions. Any hints would certainly have been wasted on Caroline.

"I'd rather the doctor came with me, if you don't mind, Miss Sheppard," said Flora.

"Of course she is," said Caroline. "I'll go with her myself if she likes."

I was not really being stupid. Caroline does not always understand what I am driving at.

"You haven't got confidence in Inspector Davis?" I went on.

"And how do you know he would take up the case?" I asked. "Remember he has retired from active work."

"Yes," said Caroline grudgingly, "I see that."

Anyone would have thought it was Caroline's uncle who had been murdered.

"That's just it," said Flora simply. "I've got to persuade him."

I took a turn or two up and down the room.

"You see," she explained, following directness with tact, "Dr Sheppard being the doctor, and having found the body, he would be able to give all the details to M. Poirot."

"Of course she hasn't," said Caroline. "I haven't either."

"I know why you say that," she cried. "But it's exactly for that reason I'm so anxious to go. You're afraid! But I'm not. I know Ralph better than you do."

I interrupted her. "You had no idea that he was in King's Abbot?"

"Ralph may be weak," continued Flora. "He may have done foolish things in the past -- wicked things even -- but he wouldn't murder anyone."

"Ralph!" said Caroline. "What has Ralph got to do with it?"

"How did you know about that?" I countered.

"I went there this morning," said Flora. "I heard from the servants that Ralph was staying there --"

Flora sprang to her feet. The colour rushed into her cheeks.

"Flora," I said gravely, "be guided by me. I advise you not to drag this detective into the case."

"Then why did you go to the Three Boars last night?" demanded Flora, "on your way home -- after Uncle's body was found?"

I was momentarily silenced. I had hoped that that visit of mine would remain unnoticed.

"No, no," I exclaimed. "I never thought it of him."

Neither of us heeded her.

Flora stamped her foot. "I don't care. There must be a simple explanation."

"Leaving his luggage behind?" I asked gently.

"But that's just it," cried the girl. They do suspect him. A man from Cranchester turned up this morning -- Inspector Raglan, a horrid, weaselly little man. I found he had been to the Three Boars this morning before me. They told me all about his having been there, and the questions he had asked. He must think Ralph did it."

"No. I was astounded. I couldn't understand it. I went there and asked for him. They told me, what I suppose they told you last night, that he went out at about nine o'clock yesterday evening -- and -- and never came back." Her eyes met mine defiantly, and as though answering something in my look, she burst out: "Well, why shouldn't he? He might have gone anywhere. He may even have gone back to London."

"And that's why you want to go to Hercule Poirot? Isn't it better to leave things as they are? The police don't suspect Ralph in the least, remember. They're working on quite another tack."

"That's a change of mind from last night, if so," I said slowly. "He doesn't believe in Davis's theory that it was Parker then?"

"Parker indeed," said my sister, and snorted.

"Oh! Dr Sheppard, let us go at once to this M. Poirot. He will find out the truth."

She looked at me, nodding her head gravely.

Flora came forward and laid her hand on my arm.

"My dear Flora," I said gently, laying my hand on hers. "Are you quite sure it is the truth we want?"

"You're not sure," she said. "I am. I know Ralph better than you do."

I wanted to tell Caroline that large numbers of murderers have had nice manners, but the presence of Flora restrained me. Since the girl was determined, I was forced to give in to her and we started at once, getting away before my sister was able to fire off any more pronouncements beginning with her favourite words, "Of course."

"Of course he didn't do it," said Caroline, who had been keeping silent with great difficulty. "Ralph may be extravagant, but he's a dear boy, and has the nicest manners."

Poirot held up his hand.

An old woman with an immense Breton cap opened the door of The Larches to us. M. Poirot was at home, it seemed.

"I see," said the little man. "But the police will do that, will they not?"

"Miss Ackroyd," I said, "wants you to -- to --"

His face grew grave. "But certainly I have heard. It is horrible. I offer mademoiselle all my sympathy. In what way can I serve you?"

"To find the murderer," said Flora in a clear voice.

"Monsieur Ie docteur," he said, smiling. "Mademoiselle." He bowed to Flora.

We were ushered into a little sitting-room arranged with formal precision, and there, after a lapse of a minute or so, my friend of yesterday came to us.

"They might make a mistake," said Flora. "They are on their way to make a mistake now, I think. Please, M. Poirot, won't you help us? If- if it is a question of money --"

"Not that, I beg of you, mademoiselle. Not that I do not care for money." His eyes showed a momentary twinkle. "Money, it means much to me and always has done. No, if I go into this, you must understand one thing clearly. I shall go through with it to the end. The good dog, he does not leave the scent, remember! You may wish that, after all, you had left it to the local police."

"Perhaps," I began, "you have heard of the tragedy which occurred last night."

"I thought someone ought to inform the young man of his uncle's death. It occurred to me after I had left Fernly that possibly no one but myself and Mr Ackroyd were aware that he was staying in the village."

"Then I accept," said the little man quietly. "And I hope you will not regret those words. Now, tell me all the circumstances."

"All the truth."

I paused a moment to choose my words carefully.

Thus enjoined, I plunged into a careful narrative, embodying all the facts I have previously set down. Poirot listened carefully, inserting a question here and there, but for the most part sitting in silence, his eyes on the ceiling.

"I want the truth," said Flora, looking him straight in the eyes.

"And now," said Flora, as I finished, "tell him all about Ralph."

"All the truth?"

I hesitated, but her imperious glance drove me on.

"You went to this inn -- this Three Boars -- last night on your way home?" asked Poirot, as I brought my tale to a close. "Now exactly why was that?"

I brought my story to a close with the departure of the inspector and myself from Fernly Park the previous night.

"Dr Sheppard had better tell you," said Flora. "He knows more than I do."

"That was my only motive," I said stiffly.

"It was not to -- shall we say -- reassure yourself about ce jeune homme?"

"I think, M. Ie docteur, that you know very well what I mean, though you pretend not to do so. I suggest that it would have been a relief to you if you had found that Captain Paton had been at home all the evening."

"Reassure myself?"

"You have not the trust in me of Miss Flora," he said. "But no matter. What we have to look at is this -- Captain Paton is missing, under circumstances which call for an explanation. I will not hide from you that the matter looks grave. Still, it may admit of a perfectly simple explanation."

"Not at all," I said sharply.

Poirot nodded. "Quite so. That was your only motive in going there, eh?"

The little detective shook his head at me gravely.

"That's just what I keep saying," cried Flora eagerly.

Poirot touched no more upon that theme. Instead he suggested an immediate visit to the local police. He thought it better for Flora to return home, and for me to be the one to accompany him there and introduce him to the officer in charge of the case.

"The case is going to be plain as a pikestaff," said Raglan. "Not the least need for amateurs to come butting in. You'd think any fool would have seen the way things were last night, and then we shouldn't have lost twelve hours."

We carried out this plan forthwith. We found Inspector Davis outside the police station looking very glum indeed. With him was Colonel Melrose, the Chief Constable, and another man whom, from Flora's description of'weaselly," I had no difficulty in recognizing as Inspector Raglan from Cranchester.

"Mr Ackroyd's family must, of course, do what they see fit," said Colonel Melrose. "But we cannot have the official investigation hampered in any way. I know M. Poirot's great reputation, of course," he added courteously.

I know Melrose fairly well, and I introduced Poirot to him and explained the situation. The chief constable was clearly vexed, and Inspector Raglan looked as black as thunder. Davis, however, seemed slightly exhilarated by the sight of his superior officer's annoyance.

He directed a vengeful glance at poor Davis, who received it with perfect stolidity.

It was Poirot who saved the situation.

"The police can't advertise themselves, worse luck," said Raglan.

"It is true that I have retired from the world," he said. "I never intended to take up a case again. Above all things, I have a horror of publicity. I must beg, that in the case of my being able to contribute something to the solution of the mystery, my name may not be mentioned."

"I have had much experience," said Poirot quietly. "But most of my successes have been obtained by the aid of the police. I admire enormously your English police. If Inspector Raglan permits me to assist him, I shall be both honoured and flattered."

"I've heard of some very remarkable successes of yours," observed the colonel, thawing.

The inspector's countenance became still more gracious.

Colonel Melrose drew me aside.

Inspector Raglan's face lightened a little.

"From all I hear, this little fellow's done some really remarkable things," he murmured. "We're naturally anxious not to have to call in Scotland Yard. Raglan seems very sure of himself, but I'm not quite certain that I agree with him. You see, I -- er -- know the parties concerned better than he does. This fellow doesn't seem out after kudos, does he? Would work in with us unobtrusively, eh?"

"To the greater glory of Inspector Raglan," I said solemnly.

"I thank you," said Poirot. "My friend. Doctor Sheppard, said something of the butler being suspected?"

"Well, well," said Colonel Melrose breezily in a louder voice, "we must put you wise to the latest developments, M. Poirot."

"That's all bunkum," said Raglan instantly. "These high-class servants get in such a funk that they act suspiciously for nothing at all."

"What about those of Captain Ralph Paton?" asked Poirot quietly.

"Nothing like Parker's." He gave a faint smile, and added: "And yours and Mr Raymond's don't fit either, doctor."

I felt a secret admiration of the way he took the bull by the horns. I saw a look of respect creep into the inspector's eye.

"I see you don't let the grass grow under your feet, Mr Poirot. It will be a pleasure to work with you, I'm sure. We're going to take that young gentleman's fingerprints as soon as we can lay hands upon him."

"I can't help thinking you're mistaken. Inspector," said Colonel Melrose warmly. "I've known Ralph Paton from a boy upward. He'd never stoop to murder."

"The fingerprints?" I hinted.

"What have you got against him?" I asked.

We assented, and all drove up in the colonel's car. The inspector was anxious to get at once to the footmarks, and asked to be put down at the lodge. About half-way up the drive, on the right, a path branched off which led round to the terrace and the window of Ackroyd's study.

"Went out just on nine o'clock last night. Was seen in the neighbourhood of Fernly Park somewhere about nine-thirty. Not been seen since. Believed to be in serious money difficulties. I've got a pair of his shoes here -- shoes with rubber studs in them. He had two pairs, almost exactly alike. I'm going up now to compare them with those footmarks. The constable is up there seeing that no one tampers with them."

"Maybe not," said the inspector tonelessly.

"We'll go at once," said Colonel Melrose. "You and M. Poirot will accompany us, will you not?"

"Would you like to go with the inspector, M. Poirot?" asked the chief constable, "or would you prefer to examine the study?"

Poirot chose the latter alternative. Parker opened the door to us. His manner was smug and deferential, and he seemed to have recovered from his panic of the night before.

As precisely as possible, I described Ackroyd's position.

"And the body was found -- where?"

The arm-chair still stood in front of the fire.

Poirot nodded. "Except for that, everything was in its place?"

Poirot went next to the window.

Poirot went and sat down in it.

"Yes."

"Except for the removal of the body, M. Poirot, this room is exactly as it was last night."

"Colonel Melrose, would you be so extremely obliging as to sit down in this chair a minute. I thank you. Now M. Ie docteur, will you kindly indicate to me the exact position of the dagger?"

"Yes, I think so."

"The electric light was on, of course, when you discovered the body?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Mr Ackroyd had laid it down on this little table at his right hand."

"The blue letter you speak of, where was it when you left the room?"

"The hilt of the dagger was plainly visible from the door then. Both you and Parker could see it at once?"

I did so, whilst the little man stood in the doorway.

Colonel Melrose took a key from his pocket, and unlocking the door which let into the lobby, he ushered us through into the study.

"The rubber studs are the same pattern as those in Captain Paton's shoes," he said quietly.

I assented, and joined him where he was studying the marks on the windowsill.

T think so," I said, surprised.

"Are you a man of good observation. Doctor Sheppard?" he asked at last.

Then he came back once more to the middle of the room. His eye travelled round, searching everything in the room with a quick, trained glance.

I gave a vexed laugh.

"There was a fire in the grate, I see. When you broke the door down and found Mr Ackroyd dead, how was the fire? Was it low?"

The little man opposite me shook his head with a faint smile.

"I really can't say. I didn't notice. Perhaps Mr Raymond or Major Blunt --"

"One must always proceed with method. I made an error of judgment in asking you that question. To each man his own knowledge. You could tell me the details of the patient's appearance -- nothing there would escape you. If I wanted information about the papers on that desk, Mr Raymond would have noticed anything there was to see. To find out about the fire, I must ask the man whose business it is to observe such things. You permit " He moved swiftly to the fireplace and rang the bell.

"The curtains were drawn, sir, and the electric light was on."

"Ah!" said Poirot. The exclamation sounded almost triumphant. He went on: "Look round you, my good Parker. Is this room exactly as it was then?"

"Come in, Parker," said Colonel Melrose. "This gentleman wants to ask you something."

After a lapse of a minute or two Parker appeared.

Parker replied without a pause. "It had burned very low, sir. It was almost out."

"Parker," said the little man, "when you broke down the door with Dr Sheppard last night, and found your master dead, what was the state of the fire?"

The butler's eye swept round. It came to rest on the windows.

"The bell rang, sir," he said hesitatingly.

Parker transferred a respectful attention to Poirot.

"Yes, sir, this chair was drawn out a little more." He indicated a big grandfather chair to the left of the door between it and the window. I append a plan of the room with the chair in question marked with an X.

"Just show me," said Poirot.

Poirot nodded approval. "Anything else?"

"Do you think Parker is speaking the truth?" I asked.

"It is completely unimportant," said Poirot. "That is why it is so interesting," he added softly.

The butler drew the chair in question out a good two feet from the wall, turning it so that the seat faced the door.

"About the chair, yes. Otherwise I do not know. You will find, M. Ie docteur, if you have much to do with cases of this kind, that they all resemble each other in one thing."

"Voila ce qui est curieux," murmured Poirot. "No one would want to sit in a chair in such a position, I fancy. Now who pushed it back into place again, I wonder? Did you, my friend?"

"It was back in position when I arrived with the police, sir," put in Parker. "I'm sure of that."

I shook my head.

Poirot looked across at me. "Did you, doctor?"

"Raymond or Blunt must have pushed it back," I suggested. "Surely it isn't important?"

"Excuse me a minute," said Colonel Melrose. He left the room with Parker.

"Curious," said Poirot again.

"No, sir," said Parker. "I was too upset with seeing the master and all."

Poirot looked at me attentively.

"The window is then closed and bolted and the door unlocked. At a quater past ten when the body is discovered, the door is locked and the window is open. Who opened it?"

"Have you told me everything known to you about this young man Paton?" He smiled as I grew red. "Oh! do not fear. I will not press you. I shall learn it in good time."

"Have I?" I asked, smiling.

"What is that?" I asked curiously.

"But --"

"I wish you'd tell me something of your methods," I said hastily, to cover my confusion. "The point about the fire, for instance?"

"Everyone concerned in them has something to hide."

"Oh! that was very simple. You leave Mr Ackroyd at -- ten minutes to nine, was it not?"

"Clearly only Mr Ackroyd himself could have done so, and for one of two reasons. Either because the room became unbearably hot but since the fire was nearly out and there was a sharp drop in temperature last night, that cannot be the reason, or because he admitted someone that way. And if he admitted someone that way, it must have been someone well known to him, since he had previously shown himself uneasy on the subject of that same window."

"I think you have," he said quietly.

"Yes, exactly, I should say."

"Everything is simple, if you arrange the facts methodically. We are concerned now with the personality of the person who was with him at nine-thirty last night. Everything goes to show that that was the individual admitted by the window, and though Mr Ackroyd was seen alive later by Miss Flora, we cannot approach a solution of the mystery until we know who that visitor was. The window may have been left open after his departure and so afforded entrance to the murderer, or the same person may have returned a second time. Ah! here is the colonel who returns."

Colonel Melrose entered with an animated manner.

"It sounds very simple," I said.

"That telephone call has been traced at last," he said. "It did not come from here. It was put through to Dr Sheppard at 10.15 last night from a public call office at King's Abbot station. And at 10.23 the night mail leaves for Liverpool."