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“You don’t think he made a mistake in the injection?”
Reilly said:
“If Morley injected that Greek with the amount that they say he did, he was either drunk or else he meant to kill the man. And I’ve never seen Morley drink.”
“So you think it was deliberate?”
“I’d not like to be saying that. It’s a grave accusation to be making. Truly now, I don’t believe it.”
“There must be some explanation.”
“There must indeed—but I’ve not thought of it yet.”
Poirot said:
“When did you last actually see Mr. Morley alive?”
“Let me see now. It’s a long time after to be asking me a thing like that. It would be the night before—about a quarter to seven.”
“You didn’t see him on the actual day of the murder?”
Reilly shook his head.
“You are sure?” Poirot persisted.
“Oh, I’d not say that. But I don’t remember—”
“You did not, for instance, go up to his room about eleven thirty five when he had a patient there?”
“You’re right now. I did. There was a technical question I had to ask him about some instruments I was ordering. They’d rung me up about it. But I was only there for a minute, so it slipped my memory. He had a patient there at the time.”
Poirot nodded. He said:
“There is another question I always meant to ask you. Your patient, Mr. Raikes, cancelled his appointment by walking out. What did you do during that half hour’s leisure?”
“What I always do when I have any leisure. Mixed myself a drink. And as I’ve been telling you, I put through a telephone call and ran up to see Morley for a minute.”
Poirot said:
“And I also understand that you had no patient from half past twelve to one after Mr. Barnes left. When did he leave, by the way?”
“Oh! Just after half past twelve.”
“And what did you do then?”
“The same as before. Mixed myself another drink!”
“And went up to see Morley again?”
Mr. Reilly smiled.
“Are you meaning did I go up and shoot him? I’ve told you already, long ago, that I did not. But you’ve only my word for it.”
Poirot said:
“What did you think of the house-parlourmaid, Agnes?”
Reilly stared:
