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He was silent for a moment or two.

She sat there gravely, watching him.

‘We turn from personalities, which are often the really important things, to plain facts. I know only what has been in the papers. On the facts as given there, only two persons had the opportunity of killing your husband, only two persons could have killed him – Major Rich and Major Rich’s manservant.’

She said, stubbornly:

‘I know Charles didn’t kill him.’

‘So, then, it must have been the valet. You agree?’

She said doubtfully:

‘I see what you mean . . .’

‘But you are dubious about it?’

‘It just seems – fantastic!’

‘Yet the possibility is there. Your husband undoubtedly came to the flat, since his body was found there. If the valet’s story is true, Major Rich killed him. But if the valet’s story is false? Then, the valet killed him and hid the body in the chest before his master returned. An excellent way of disposing of the body from his point of view. He has only got to “notice the bloodstain” the next morning and “discover” it. Suspicion will immediately fall on Rich.’

‘But why should he want to kill Arnold?’

‘Ah why? The motive cannot be an obvious one – or the police would have investigated it. It is possible that your husband knew something to the valet’s discredit, and was about to acquaint Major Rich with the facts. Did your husband ever say anything to you about this man Burgess?’

She shook her head.

‘Do you think he would have done so – if that had indeed been the case?’

She frowned.

‘It’s difficult to say. Possibly not. Arnold never talked much about people. I told you he was reserved. He wasn’t – he was never – a chatty man.’

‘He was a man who kept his own counsel . . . Yes, now what is your opinion of Burgess?’

‘He’s not the kind of man you notice very much. A fairly good servant. Adequate but not polished.’

‘What age?’

‘About thirty-seven or -eight, I should think. He’d been a batman in the army during the war, but he wasn’t a regular soldier.’

‘How long had he been with Major Rich?’

‘Not very long. About a year and a half, I think.’

‘You never noticed anything odd about his manner towards your husband?’

‘We weren’t there so very often. No, I noticed nothing at all.’

‘Tell me now about the events of that evening. What time were you invited?’

‘Eight-fifteen for half past.’

‘And just what kind of a party was it to be?’

‘Well, there would be drinks, and a kind of buffet supper – usually a very good one. Foie gras and hot toast. Smoked salmon. Sometimes there was a hot rice dish – Charles had a special recipe he’d got in the Near East – but that was more for winter. Then we used to have music – Charles had got a very good stereophonic gramophone. Both my husband and Jock McLaren were very fond of classical records. And we had dance music – the Spences were very keen dancers. It was that sort of thing – a quiet informal evening. Charles was a very good host.’

‘And this particular evening – it was like other evenings there? You noticed nothing unusual – nothing out of place?’

‘Out of place?’ She frowned for a moment. ‘When you said that I – no, it’s gone. There was something . . .’ She shook her head again. ‘No. To answer your question, there was nothing unusual at all about that evening. We enjoyed ourselves. Everybody seemed relaxed and happy.’ She shivered. ‘And to think that all the time –’

Poirot held up a quick hand.

‘Do not think. This business that took your husband to Scotland, how much do you know about that?’

‘Not very much. There was some dispute over the restrictions on selling a piece of land which belonged to my husband. The sale had apparently gone through and then some sudden snag turned up.’

‘What did your husband tell you exactly?’

‘He came in with a telegram in his hand. As far as I remember, he said: “This is most annoying. I shall have to take the night mail to Edinburgh and see Johnston first thing tomorrow morning . . . Too bad when one thought the thing was going through