“And there is no doubt in your mind—excuse me!” He got up, and carefully straightened the inkstand which was a little askew. “_Je vous demande pardon_,” he continued, reseating himself. “It affects my nerves to see anything crooked. Strange, is it not? I was saying, monsieur, that there is no doubt in your mind, as to this probably unexpected meeting being the cause of your daughter’s sudden change of plan?” “It seems the only reasonable supposition.” “You have no idea as to who the gentleman in question might be?” The millionaire hesitated for a moment, and then replied. “No—I do not know at all.” “Now—as to the discovery of the body?” “It was discovered by a young naval officer who at once gave the alarm. There was a doctor on the train. He examined the body. She had been first chloroformed, and then stabbed. He gave it as his opinion that she had been dead about four hours, so it must have been done not long after leaving Bristol. —Probably between there and Weston, possibly between Weston and Taunton.” “And the jewel-case.” “The jewel-case, M. Poirot, was missing.” “One thing more, monsieur. Your daughter’s fortune—to whom does it pass at her death?” “Flossie made a will soon after her marriage, leaving everything to her husband.” He hesitated for a minute, and then went on: “I may as well tell you, Monsieur Poirot, that I regard my son-in-law as an unprincipled scoundrel, and that, by my advice, my daughter was on the eve of freeing herself from him by legal means—no difficult matter. I settled her money upon her in such a way that he could not touch it during her lifetime, but although they have lived entirely apart for some years, she has frequently acceded to his demands for money, rather than face an open scandal. However, I was determined to put an end to this, and at last Flossie agreed, and my lawyers were instructed to take proceedings.” “And where is Monsieur Carrington?” “In town. I believe he was away in the country yesterday, but he returned last night.” Poirot considered a little while. Then he said: “I think that is all, monsieur.” “You would like to see the maid, Jane Mason?” “If you please.” * * * * * Halliday rang the bell, and gave a short order to the footman. A few minutes later Jane Mason entered the room, a respectable, hard-featured woman, as emotionless in the face of tragedy as only a good servant can be. “You will permit me to put a few questions? Your mistress, she was quite as usual before starting yesterday morning? Not excited or flurried?” “Oh, no sir!” “But at Bristol she was quite different?” “Yes sir, regular upset—so nervous she didn’t seem to know what she was saying.” “What did she say exactly?”