billiard room. Flora and Major Hector Blunt were sitting on the long window seat.
"Good-morning, Miss Ackroyd," said the inspector. "Can we have a word or two alone with you?"
Blunt got up at once and moved to the door.
"What is it?" asked Flora nervously. "Don't go, Major Blunt. He can stay, can't he?" she asked, turning to the inspector.
"That's as you like," said the inspector dryly. "There's a question or two it's my duty to put to you, miss, but I'd prefer to do so privately, and I dare say you'd prefer it also."
Flora looked keenly at him. I saw her face grow whiter. Then she turned and spoke to Blunt.
"I want you to stay—please—yes, I mean it. Whatever the inspector has to say to me, I'd rather you heard it."
Raglan shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, if you will have it so, that's all there is to it. Now, Miss Ackroyd, M. Poirot here has made a certain suggestion to me. He suggests that you weren't in the study at all last Friday night, that you never saw Mr. Ackroyd to say good-night to him, that instead of being in the study you were on the stairs leading down from your uncle's bedroom when you heard Parker coming acoss the hall."
Flora's gaze shifted to Poirot. He nodded back at her.
"Mademoiselle, the other day, when we sat round the table, I implored you to be frank with me. What one does not tell to Papa Poirot he finds out. It was
[232]
