“We come now,” said the dapper Belgian, his bald head gleaming with its usual aplomb, “to the questions that must be certainly resolved if the perpetrator of this terrible crime is to be unmasked. Firstly, how was the strychnine introduced into Colonel Marchmain's egg before it was boiled? Second, why did the mysterious woman use ketchup to smear that dramatic warning on the bedsheets? And most crucial of all, mon cher Hastings, we must ask why the kitchen clock was turned back by precisely one hour and twenty-seven minutes. Those indeed are the questions that require an answer.” The great detective paused here, giving a shrug that seemed uncharacteristic, yet still decidedly continental. “And I must confess that for once I have not – how you say? - the foggiest. Ah well, you win some and you lose some.”
|