The other possibility is certain Mr. Frank Carter (not a patient) who came to the house at a little after twelve with the intention of seeing Mr. Morley.
Nobody saw him leave, either.
Those, my good George, are the facts.
What do you think of them?"
"At what time was the murder committed, sir?"
"If the murder was committed by Mr. Amberiotis it was committed at any time between twelve and five and twenty past.
If by somebody else, it was committed after twenty-five minutes past twelve, otherwise Mr. Amberiotis would have noticed the corpse."
He looked encouragingly at George. "Now, my good George, what have you to say about the matter?" George pondered.
He said: "It strikes me, sir -"
"Yes, George?"
"You will have to find another dentist to attend to your teeth in future, sir."
Hercule Poirot said: "You surpass yourself, George.
That aspect of the matter had not as yet occurred to me!"
Looking gratified, George left the room.
Hercule Poirot remained sipping his chocolate and going over the facts he had just outlined. He felt satisfied that they were as he had stated them.
Within that circle of persons was the hand that had actually done the deed – no matter whose the inspiration had been.
Then his eyebrows shot up as he realized that the list was incomplete. He had left out one name. And no one must be left out – not even the most unlikely person.
There had been one other person in the house at the time of the murder.
He wrote down: "Mr. Barnes."
X George announced: "A lady to speak to you on the telephone, sir."
A week ago, Poirot had guessed wrongly the identity of a visitor. This time his guess was right.
He recognized the voice at once. "M. Hercule Poirot?" "Speaking." "This is Jane Olivera – Mr. Alistair Blunt's niece." "Yes, Miss Olivera."
"Could you come to the Gothic House, please?
There is something I feel you ought to know"
"Certainly. What time would be convenient?" "At 6:30, please."
"I will be there."
"I hope I am not interrupting your work?"
"Not at all.
I was expecting you to call me.
He put down the receiver quickly. He moved away smiling.
He wondered what excuse Jane Olivera had found for summoning him.
On arrival at the Gothic House he was shown straight into the big library overlooking the river.
Alistair Blunt was sitting at the writing table playing absent-mindedly with a paper knife.
He had the harrased look of a man whose womanfolk were to much for him.
Jane Olivera was standing by the mantelpiece.
A plump middle-aged woman was saying fretfully as Poirot entered, "… I really think my feelings should be considered in the matter, Alistair."
"But Julia, of course, of course," said Alistair while he got up to greet Poirot.
"If you're going to talk horrors I shall leave the room," said the good lady.
"It's a good idea, mother," said Jane Olivera.
Mrs. Olivera swept from the room without condescending to take any notice of Poirot.
Alistair Blunt said: "It's so good of you to come, M. Poirot.
You've met Miss Olivera, I think?
It was she who sent for you." Jane said abruptly: "It is about this missing woman that the papers are full of. Something Seale."
"Sainsbury Seale? Yes?" "It's such a pompous name, that's why I remember.
Shall I tell him, or will you, Uncle Alistair?"
"My dear, it's your story."
Jane turned once more to Poirot.
"It mayn't be important in the least – but I thought you ought to know." "Yes."
"It was the last time Uncle Alistair went to the dentist's – I don't mean the other day – I mean about three months ago.
I went with him to Queen Charlotte Street in the Rolls and it was to take me on to some friends in Regent's Park and come back for him.