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‘‘Suppose；'' suggested Poirot； ‘‘that； unknown to you； she had made a new will in favour of some one who was not； in any sense of the word； a member of the family we will say Miss Howard； for instance would you be surprised？''
‘‘Not in the least。''
‘‘Ah！'' Poirot seemed to have exhausted his questions。
I drew close to him； while John and the lawyer were debating the question of going through Mrs。 Inglethorp's papers。
‘‘Do you think Mrs。 Inglethorp made a will leaving all her money to Miss Howard？'' I asked in a low voice； with some curiosity。
Poirot smiled。
‘‘No。''
‘‘Then why did you ask？''
‘‘Hush！''
John Cavendish had turned to Poirot。
‘‘Will you e with us； Monsieur Poirot？ We are going through my mother's papers。 Mr。 Inglethorp is quite willing to leave it entirely to Mr。 Wells and myself。''
‘‘Which simplifies matters very much；'' murmured the lawyer。 ‘‘As technically； of course； he was entitled '' He did not finish the sentence。
‘‘We will look through the desk in the boudoir first；'' explained John； ‘‘and go up to her bedroom afterwards。 She kept her most important papers in a purple despatch…case； which we must look through carefully。''
‘‘Yes；'' said the lawyer； ‘‘it is quite possible that there may be a later will than the one in my possession。''
‘‘There is a later will。'' It was Poirot who spoke。
‘‘What？'' John and the lawyer looked at him startled。
‘‘Or； rather；'' pursued my friend imperturbably； ‘‘there was one。''
‘‘What do you mean there was one？ Where is it now？''
‘‘Burnt！''
‘‘Burnt？''
‘‘Yes。 See here。'' He took out the charred fragment we had found in the grate in Mrs。 Inglethorp's room； and handed it to the lawyer with a brief explanation of when and where he had found it。
‘‘But possibly this is an old will？''
‘‘I do not think so。 In fact I am almost certain that it was made no earlier than yesterday afternoon。''
‘‘What？'' ‘‘Impossible！'' broke simultaneously from both men。
Poirot turned to John。
‘‘If you will allow me to send for your gardener； I will prove it to you。''
‘‘Oh； of course but I don't see ''
Poirot raised his hand。
‘‘Do as I ask you。 Afterwards you shall question as much as you please。''
‘‘Very well。'' He rang the bell。
Dorcas answered it in due course。
‘‘Dorcas； will you tell Manning to e round and speak to me here。''
‘‘Yes； sir。''
Dorcas withdrew。
We waited in a tense silence。 Poirot alone seemed perfectly at his ease； and dusted a forgotten corner of the bookcase。
The clumping of hobnailed boots on the gravel outside proclaimed the approach of Manning。 John looked questioningly at Poirot。 The latter nodded。
‘‘e inside； Manning；'' said John； ‘‘I want to speak to you。''
Manning came slowly and hesitatingly through the French window； and stood as near it as he could。 He held his cap in his hands； twisting it very carefully round and round。 His back was much bent； though he was probably not as old as he looked； but his eyes were sharp and intelligent； and belied his slow and rather cautious speech。
‘‘Manning；'' said John； ‘‘this gentleman will put some questions to you which I want you to answer。''
‘‘Yessir；'' mumbled Manning。
Poirot stepped forward briskly。 Manning's eye swept over him with a faint contempt。
‘‘You were planting a bed of begonias round by the south side of the house yesterday afternoon； were you not； Manning？''
‘‘Yes； sir； me and Willum。''
‘‘And Mrs。 Inglethorp came to the window and called you； did she not？''
‘‘Yes； sir； she did。''
‘‘Tell me in your own words exactly what happened after that。''
‘‘Well； sir； nothing much。 She just told Willum to go on his bicycle down to the village； and bring back a form of will； or such…like I don't know what exactly she wrote it down for him。''
‘‘Well？''
‘‘Well； he did； sir。''
‘‘And what happened next？''
‘‘We went on with the begonias； sir。''
‘‘Did not Mrs。 Inglethorp call you again？''
‘‘Yes； sir； both me and Willum； she called。''
‘‘And then？''
‘‘She made us e right in； and sign our names at the bottom of a long paper under where she'd signed。''
‘‘Did you see anything of what was written above her signature？'' asked Poirot sharply。
‘‘No； sir； there was a bit of blotting paper over that part。''
‘‘And you signed where she told you？''
‘‘Yes； sir； first me and then Willum。''
‘‘What did she do with it afterwards？''
‘‘Well； sir； she slipped it into a long envelope； and put it inside a sort of purple box that was standing on the desk。''
‘‘What time was it when she first called you？''
‘‘About four； I should say； sir。''
‘‘Not earlier？ Couldn't it have been about half…past three？''
‘‘No； I shouldn't say so； sir。 It would be more likely to be a bit after four not before it。''
‘‘Thank you； Manning； that will do；'' said Poirot pleasantly。
The gardener glanced at his master； who nodded； whereupon Manning lifted a finger to his forehead with a low mumble； and backed cautiously out of the window。
We all looked at each other。
‘‘Good heavens！'' murmured John。 ‘‘What an extraordinary coincidence。''
‘‘How a coincidence？''
‘‘That my mother should have made a will on the very day of her death！''
Mr。 Wells cleared his throat and remarked drily：
‘‘Are you so sure it is a coincidence； Cavendish？''
‘‘What do you mean？''
‘‘Your mother； you tell me； had a violent quarrel with some one yesterday afternoon ''
‘‘What do you mean？'' cried John again。 There was a tremor in his voice； and he had gone very pale。
‘‘In consequence of that quarrel； your mother very suddenly and hurriedly makes a new will。 The contents of that will we shall never know。 She told no one of its provisions。 This morning； no doubt； she would have consulted me on the subject but she had no chance。 The will disappears； and she takes its secret with her to her grave。 Cavendish； I much fear there is no coincidence there。 Monsieur Poirot； I am sure you agree with me that the facts are very suggestive。''
‘‘Suggestive； or not；'' interrupted John； ‘‘we are most grateful to Monsieur Poirot for elucidating the matter。 But for him； we should never have known of this will。 I suppose； I may not ask you； monsieur； what first led you to suspect the fact？''
Poirot smiled and answered：
‘‘A scribbled over old envelope； and a freshly planted bed of begonias。''
John； I think； would have pressed his questions further； but at that moment the loud purr of a motor was audible； and we all turned to the window as it swept past。
‘‘Evie！'' cried John。 ‘‘Excuse me； Wells。'' He went hurriedly out into the hall。
Poirot looked inquiringly at me。
‘‘Miss Howard；'' I explained。
‘‘Ah； I am glad she has e。 There is a woman with a head and a heart too； Hastings。 Though the good God gave her no beauty！''
I followed John's example； and went out into the hall； where Miss Howard was endeavouring to extricate herself from the voluminous mass of veils that enveloped her head。 As her eyes fell on me； a sudden pang of guilt shot through me。 This was the woman who had warned me so earnestly； and to whose wa