Diana breathed: "Is that blood ?"

Poirot looked inquiringly at the two

men. The Admiral nodded. He said:

"Not human, thank God! A cat! I

found it downstairs in the hall. Throat

cut. Afterwards he must have come up

here --M

"Here?" Diana's voice was low with

horror. "To me ?"

The man on the chair stirred--muttered.

They watched him, fascinated.

Hugh Chandler sat up. He blinked.

"Hallo," his voice was dazed --hoarse.

"What's happened ? Why am I --?"

He stopped. He was staring at the knife

which he held still clasped in his hand.

He said in a slow, thick voice:

"What have I done ?"

His eyes went from one to the other.

They rested at last on Diana shrinking

back

against the wall. He said quietly:

"Did I attack Diana ?"

281

In his right hand was a sharply-curved, shining knife. Not all of it was shining - here and there it was obscured by red glistening patches.

Hercule Poirot exclaimed softly:

"Mon Dieu /"

Frobisher said sharply:

"She's all right. He hasn't touched her."

He raised his voice and called: "Diana!

Ifs us! Let us in!"

Poirot heard the Admiral groan and

mutter under his breath:

"My boy. My poor boy."

There was a sound of bolts being drawn.

The door opened and Diana stood there.

Her face was dead white.

She faltered out:

"What's happened? There was someone

--trying to get in --I heard them --feeling

the door --the handle --scratching

on the panels--Oh! it was awful . . . like

an animal. . . ."

Frobisher said sharply:

"Thank God your door was locked!"

"M. Poirot told me to lock it."

Poirot said:

"Lift him up and bring him inside."

The two men stooped and raised the

280

unconscious man. Diana caught her breath

with a little gasp as they passed her.

"Hugh ? Is it Hugh ? What's that --on

his hands ?"

Hugh Chandler's hands were sticky and

wet with a brownish, red stain.

Diana breathed: "Is that blood ?"

Poirot looked inquiringly at the two

men. The Admiral nodded. He said:

"Not human, thank God! A cat! I

found it downstairs in the hall. Throat

cut. Afterwards he must have come up

here --"

"Here?" Diana's voice was low with

horror. "Tow^?"

The man on the chair stirred--muttered.

They watched him, fascinated.

Hugh Chandler sat up. He blinked.

"Hallo," his voice was dazed --hoarse.

"What's happened ? Why am I --?33

He stopped. He was staring at the knife

which he held still clasped in his hand.

He said in a slow, thick voice:

"What have I done ?"

His eyes went from one to the other.

They rested at last on Diana shrinking

back against the wall. He said quietly:

"Did I attack Diana ?"

281

His father shook his head. Hugh said:

"Tell me what has happened? I've got to

know!33

They told him—told him unwillingly

—haltingly. His quiet perseverance drew

it out of them.

Outside the window the sun was coming