The Chocolate Box: A Hercule Poirot Short Story

‘Comment?’ I exclaimed, surprised.

‘Monsieur, I have nothing to go upon – nothing but my woman’s instinct, but I am convinced – convinced, I tell you – that M. Déroulard did not die a natural death!’

‘But surely the doctors –’

‘Doctors may be mistaken. He was so robust, so strong. Ah, Monsieur Poirot, I beseech of you to help me –’

The poor child was almost beside herself. She would have knelt to me. I soothed her as best I could.

‘I will help you, mademoiselle. I feel almost sure that your fears are unfounded, but we will see. First, I will ask you to describe to me the inmates of the house.’