"But we still do not know what he was doing at Fernly—who it was he went to meet, for instance."
"I'm afraid I can't help you at all," said the housekeeper politely. "Nothing came to my ears. If that is all———"
She made a tentative movement as though to rise. Poirot stopped her.
"It is not quite all," he said smoothly. "This morning fresh developments have arisen. It seems now that Mr. Ackroyd was murdered, not at a quarter to ten, but before. Between ten minutes to nine, when Dr. Sheppard left, and a quarter to ten."
I saw the color drain from the housekeeper's face, leaving it dead white. She leaned forward, her figure swaying.
"But Miss Ackroyd said—Miss Ackroyd said———"
"Miss Ackroyd has admitted that she was lying. She was never in the study at all that evening."
"Then———"
"Then it would seem that in this Charles Kent we have the man we are looking for. He came to Fernly, can give no account of what he was doing there———"
"I can tell you what he was doing there. He never touched a hair of old Ackroyd's head—he never went near the study. He didn't do it, I tell you."
She was leaning forward. That iron self-control was broken through at last. Terror and desperation were in her face.
"M. Poirot! M. Poirot! Oh, do believe me."
[245]
