“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.”
“Yes,” said Caroline grudgingly, “I see that.”
I took a turn or two up and down the room.
“Flora,” I said gravely, “be guided by me. I advise you not to drag this detective into the case.”
Flora sprang to her feet. The color rushed into her cheeks.
“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.”
“Ralph,” said Caroline. “What has Ralph got to do with it?”
Neither of us heeded her.
“Ralph may be weak,” continued Flora. “He may have done foolish things in the past—wicked things even—but he wouldn’t murder any one.”
“No, no,” I exclaimed. “I never thought it of him.”