He paused, his eyes half closed. Then, in a more ordinary voice he said:
"In what way can I help you?"
"First of all, Mr Lane, will you tell me your own movements today?"
"Willingly.
I started off early on one of my usual tramps.
I am fond of walking. I have roamed over a good deal of the countryside round here.
Today I went to St Petrock-in-the-Combe.
That is about seven miles from here - a very pleasant walk along winding lanes, up and down the Devon hills and valleys.
I took some lunch with me and ate it in a spinney.
I visited the Church - it has some fragments - only fragments, alas, of early glass - also a very interesting painted screen."
"Thank you, Mr Lane.
Did you meet any one on your walk?"
"Not to speak to.
A cart passed me once and a couple of boys on bicycles and some cows. However," he smiled, "if you want proof of my statement I wrote my name in the book at the Church.
You will find it there."
"You did not see any one at the Church itself - the Vicar, or the verger?"
Stephen Lane shook his head. He said: "No, there was no one about and I was the only visitor.
St Petrock is a very remote spot. The village itself lies on the far side of it about half a mile further on."
Colonel Weston said pleasantly: "You mustn't think we're - er - doubting what you say.
Just a matter of checking up on everybody.
Just routine, you know, routine. Have to stick to routine in cases of this kind."
Stephen Lane said gently: "Oh, yes, I quite understand."
Weston went on: "Now the next point.
Is there anything you know that would assist us at all? Anything about the dead woman?
Anything that could give us a pointer as to who murdered her?
Anything you heard or saw?"
Stephen Lane said: "I heard nothing.
All I can tell you is this: that I knew instinctively as soon as I saw her that Arlena Marshall was a focus of evil.
She was Evil! Evil personified!
Woman can be man's help and inspiration in life - she can also be man's downfall.
She can drag a man down to the level of the beast.
The dead woman was just such a woman. She appealed to everything base in a man's nature.
She was a woman such as Jezebel and Aholibah. Now - she has been struck down in the middle of her wickedness!"
Hercule Poirot stirred. He said: "Not struck down - strangled!
Strangled, Mr Lane, by a pair of human hands."
The clergyman's own hands trembled. The fingers writhed and twitched.
He said, and his voice came low and choked: "That's horrible - horrible - Must you put it like that?"
Hercule Poirot said: "It is the simple truth.
Have you any idea, Mr Lane, whose hands those were?"
The other shook his head. He said:
"I know nothing - nothing..."
Weston got up. He said, after a glance at Colgate to which the latter replied by an almost imperceptible nod,
"Well, we must get on to the Cove."
Lane said:
"Is that where - it happened?"
Weston nodded.
Lane said: "Can - can I come with you?"
About to return a curt negative, Weston was forestalled by Poirot.
"But certainly," said Poirot.
"Accompany me there in a boat, Mr Lane.