"IT ISN'T STRYCHNINE, IS IT?"
A slight pause ensued before the lawyer went on in his soothing manner:
"Any other evidence will be simply confirmatory, a mere matter of form."
"I see."
A faint expression of relief swept over John's face. It puzzled me, for I saw no occasion for it.
"If you know of nothing to the contrary," pursued Mr. Wells, "I had thought of Friday. That will give us plenty of time for the doctor's report. The post-mortem is to take place tonight, I believe?"
"Yes."
"Then that arrangement will suit you?"
"Perfectly."
"I need not tell you, my dear Cavendish, how distressed I am at this most tragic affair."
"Can you give us no help in solving it, monsieur?" interposed Poirot, speaking for the first time since we had entered the room.
"I?"
"Yes, we heard that Mrs. Inglethorp wrote to you last night. You should have received the letter this morning."
"I did, but it contains no information. It is merely a note asking me to call upon her this morning, as she wanted my advice on a matter of great importance."
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