Flora stamped her foot.
“I don’t care. There must be a simple explanation.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.
Flora came forward and laid her hand on my arm.
“Oh! Dr. Sheppard, let us go at once to this M. Poirot. He will find out the truth.”
“My dear Flora,” I said gently, laying my hand on hers. “Are you quite sure it is the truth we want?”
She looked at me, nodding her head gravely.