I was bewildered, incredulous, disgusted, and finally immeasurably and overwhelmingly relieved.

Who was it who wrote: "The darkest day (Live till tomorrow) will have pass'd away"? And how true it is. I saw now, clearly and sanely, how overwrought and wrong-headed I had been. Melodramatic, lost to all sense of proportion. I had actually made up my mind to kill another human being.

At this moment my eyes fell on the glass of whisky in front of me. With a shudder I got up, drew the curtains and poured it out of the window. I must have been mad last night!

I shaved, had a bath and dressed. Then, feeling very much better, I went across to Poirot. He always woke very early, I knew. I sat down and made a clean breast of the whole thing to him.

I may say it was a great relief.

He shook his head gently at me.

"Ah, but what follies it is you contemplate. I am glad you came to confess your sins to me. But why, my dear friend, did you not come to me last night and tell me what was in your mind?"

I said shamefacedly:

"I was afraid, I suppose, that you would have tried to me"

"Assuredly I would have stopped you. Ah, that, certainly. Do you think I want to see you hanged by the neck, all on account of a very unpleasant scoundrel called Major Allerton?"

"I shouldn't have been caught," I said. "I'd taken every precaution."

"That is what all murderers think. You had the true mentality! But let me tell you, mon ami, you were not as clever as you thought yourself."

"I took every precaution. I wiped my fingerprints off the bottle."

"Exactly. You also wiped Allerton's fingerprints off. And when he is found dead - what happens? They perform the autopsy and it is established that he died of an overdose of Slumberyl. Did he tafee it by accident or intention? Tiens, his fingerprints are not on the bottle. But why not? Whether accident or suicide, he would have no reason to wipe them off. And then they analyze the remaining tablets and find nearly half of them have been replaced by aspirin."

"Well, practically everyone has aspirin tablets," I murmured weakly.

"Yes, but it is not everyone who has a daughter whom Allerton is pursuing with dishonourable intentions - to use an old-fashioned melodramatic phrase. And you have had a quarrel with your daughter on the subject the day before. Two people, Boyd Carrington and Norton, can swear to your violent feeling against the man. No, Hastings, it would not have looked too good. Attention would immediately have been focussed upon you, and by that time you would probably have been in such a state of fear - or even remorse, that some good solid inspector of police would have made up his mind quite definitely that you were the guilty party. It is quite possible, even, that someone may have seen you tampering with the tablets."