168
Agatha Christie
He didn't like stooping."
"One other question. Was your father's eye-sight
good?"
She stared at him.
"Oh, no--he couldn't see at all--I mean he
couldn't see without his glasses. His sight had
always been bad from a boy."
"But with his glasses?"
"Oh, he could see all right then, of course."
"He could read newspapers and fine print?"
"Oh, yes."
"That is all, mademoiselle."
She went out of the room
Poirot murmured, "I was stupid. It was there,
all the time, under my nose. And because it was so
near I could not see it."
He leaned out of the window once more. Down
below, in the narrow way between the house and
the factory, he saw a small dark object.
Hercule Poirot nodded, satisfied, and went
downstairs again.
The others were still in the library. Poirot ad-dressed
himself to the secretary:
"I want you, Mr. Cornworthy, to recount to me
in detail the exact circumstances of Mr. Farley's
summons to me. When, for instance, did Mr.
Farley dictate that letter?"