“I quite understand. It is a very difficult situation for you, Mr. Cavendish. I would like to ask you one question. Mr. Inglethorp’s reason for not returning last night was, I believe, that he had forgotten the latch-key. Is not that so?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose you are quite sure that the latch-key was forgotten—that he did not take it after all?”
“I have no idea. I never thought of looking. We always keep it in the hall drawer. I’ll go and see if it’s there now.”
Poirot held up his hand with a faint smile.
“No, no, Mr. Cavendish, it is too late now. I am certain that you would find it. If Mr. Inglethorp did take it, he has had ample time to replace it by now.”
“But do you think——”
“I think nothing. If anyone had chanced to look this morning before his return, and seen it there, it would have been a valuable point in his favour. That is all.”
John looked perplexed.
“Do not worry,” said Poirot smoothly. “I assure you that you need not let it trouble you. Since you are so kind, let us go and have some breakfast.”