I don’t think Mrs. Ackroyd would enjoy being referred to as the old lady. She must spend a considerable amount on cosmetics.
“Every one’s,” repeated the inspector fussily.
“Including mine,” I said dryly.
“Very well. None of them correspond. That leaves us two alternatives. Ralph Paton, or the mysterious stranger the doctor here tells us about. When we get hold of those two——”
“Much valuable time may have been lost,” broke in Poirot.
“I don’t quite get you, Mr. Poirot?”
“You have taken the prints of every one in the house, you say,” murmured Poirot. “Is that the exact truth you are telling me there, M. l’Inspecteur?”
“Certainly.”
“Without overlooking any one?”
“Without overlooking any one.”