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Chapter 12. The Last Link

Poirot's abrupt departure had intrigued us all greatly. Sunday morning wore away, and still he had to not reappear.

But about three o'clock a ferocious and prolonged hooting outside drove us to the window to see Poirot alighting from a car accompanied by JAP and summer hay.

The little man was transformed. He radiated an absurd complacency. He bowed with exaggerated respect to Mary Cavendish.

Madame, have I your permission to hold the little reunion in the salon? It is necessary for everyone to attend.

Mary smiled sadly. You know, Mr. Poirot, that you have carte blanche in every way. You are too amiable, Madame. Still beaming, Poirot, marshaled us all into the drawing room, bringing forward chairs as he did so.

Miss Howard, here. Mama's Ascentea, Mr. Lawrence, the Good Dorcas, and Annie? Yeah. We must delay our proceedings a few minutes until Mr. Inglethorpe arrives.

I have sent him a note. Miss Howard rose immediately from her seat. If that man comes into the house, I leave it. No, no. Poirot went up to her and pleaded in a low voice.

Finally, Miss Howard consented to return to her chair. A few minutes later, Alfred Inglethorpe entered the room.

The company, once assembled, Poirot rose from his seat with the air of a popular lecturer and bowed politely to his audience.

Mr. Madame, as you all know, I was called in by Monsieur John Cavendish to investigate this case. I at once examined the bedroom of the deceased, which, by the advice of the doctors, had been kept locked, and was consequently exactly as it had been when the tragedy occurred.

I found, first, a fragment of green material. Second, a stain on the carpet near the window. Still damp. Thirdly, an empty box of bromide powders.

To take the fragment of green material first, I found it caught in the bolt of the communicating door between that room and the adjoining one occupied by Mom was El Cynthia.

I handed the fragment over to the police, who did not consider it of much importance. Nor did they recognize it for what it was. A piece torn from a green land armlet. There was a little stir of excitement.

Now, there was only one person at styles who worked on the land. Mrs. Cavendish. Therefore, it must have been Mrs. Cavendish, who entered the deceased room through the door communicating with Mom was El Cynthia's room.

But that door was bolted on the inside, I cried. When I examined the room, yes, but in the first place we have only her word for it, since it was she who tried that particular door and reported it fastened.

In the ensuing confusion, she would have had ample opportunity to shoot the bolt across. I took an early opportunity of verifying my conjectures.

To begin with, the fragment corresponds exactly with the tear in Mrs. Cavendish's armlet. Also, at the inquest, Mrs. Cavendish declared that she had heard from her own room the fall of the table by the bed.

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