ROUND THE TABLE
seek to entrap you, mademoiselle. Will you not trust me—and tell me where Ralph Paton is hiding?"
The girl rose, and stood facing him.
"M. Poirot," she said in a clear voice, "I swear to you—swear solemnly—that I have no idea where Ralph is, and that I have neither seen him nor heard from him either on the day of—of the murder, or since."
She sat down again. Poirot gazed at her in silence for a minute or two, then he brought his hand down on the table with a sharp rap.
"Bien! That is that," he said. His face hardened. "Now I appeal to these others who sit round this table, Mrs. Ackroyd, Major Blunt, Dr. Sheppard, Mr. Raymond. You are all friends and intimates of the missing man. If you know where Ralph Paton is hiding, speak out."
There was a long silence. Poirot looked to each in turn.
"I beg of you," he said in a low voice, "speak out."
But still there was silence, broken at last by Mrs. Ackroyd.
"I must say," she observed in a plaintive voice, "that Ralph's absence is most peculiar—most peculiar indeed. Not to come forward at such a time. It looks, you know, as though there were something behind it. I can't help thinking, Flora dear, that it was a very fortunate thing your engagement was never formally announced."
"Mother!" cried Flora angrily.
"Providence," declared Mrs. Ackroyd. "I have a de-
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