Chap­ter VI begins as the inquest into Mrs. Inglethorp’s death casts a for­mal light on the mys­tery, with Her­cule Poirot already deep in his own metic­u­lous inves­ti­ga­tion. From the out­set, it becomes clear that while facts are being pub­licly laid out, not all truths are being ful­ly under­stood. Hast­ings observes the events with a grow­ing sense of exclu­sion, feel­ing dis­tanced from Poirot’s pri­vate insights. When he learns that Alfred Inglethorp has been vis­it­ing a near­by farm, it trig­gers renewed doubts about the man’s hon­esty. The vis­it seems unre­lat­ed, but its secre­cy and tim­ing sug­gest pos­si­ble decep­tion. Hast­ings begins to view the case less as a straight­for­ward who­dunit and more as a puz­zle of motives, appear­ances, and con­cealed inten­tions.

At the inquest held at the local inn, the inquiry begins with clin­i­cal assess­ments. The coro­ner con­firms that Mrs. Inglethorp died from strych­nine poi­son­ing, ini­ti­at­ing a series of tes­ti­monies that reshape the household’s dynam­ics in the pub­lic eye. Each wit­ness brings par­tial clar­i­ty but also intro­duces con­tra­dic­tions. Med­ical opin­ions strong­ly dis­count the pos­si­bil­i­ty of sui­cide or acci­den­tal inges­tion, rein­forc­ing that mur­der is the only like­ly sce­nario. Poirot’s ear­li­er test­ing of the cocoa elim­i­nates it as the deliv­ery method for the poi­son, nar­row­ing the means of admin­is­tra­tion. As fam­i­ly mem­bers are ques­tioned, their tes­ti­monies either reveal ten­sion or high­light incon­sis­ten­cies. While some seek to pro­tect rep­u­ta­tions, oth­ers appear less con­cerned about dis­cre­tion, com­pli­cat­ing the search for truth.

Alfred Inglethorp’s tes­ti­mo­ny is par­tic­u­lar­ly dam­ag­ing. The chemist’s assis­tant claims that he sold strych­nine to some­one match­ing Alfred’s descrip­tion. Inglethorp denies this, insist­ing it was a case of mis­tak­en iden­ti­ty, but his behav­ior rais­es doubts. His expla­na­tions seem rehearsed, his tone defen­sive, and his fail­ure to pro­vide a sol­id ali­bi for the night of the mur­der only deep­ens sus­pi­cion. The coro­ner and jury seem increas­ing­ly skep­ti­cal, though Poirot remains com­posed, watch­ing with­out inter­fer­ing. Hast­ings, on the oth­er hand, grows more con­vinced that Alfred is hid­ing some­thing, espe­cial­ly giv­en his pri­or eva­sive behav­ior and the grow­ing list of cir­cum­stan­tial evi­dence.

The family’s inter­nal strug­gles begin to sur­face in more detail. The chang­ing of wills, par­tic­u­lar­ly Mrs. Inglethorp’s appar­ent plan to revise her estate, fuels spec­u­la­tion about motives. The inquest reveals that legal arrange­ments were unset­tled short­ly before her death, imply­ing a finan­cial motive for sev­er­al indi­vid­u­als. Eve­lyn Howard’s pri­or warn­ings, dis­missed ear­li­er as emo­tion­al out­bursts, now take on a new weight. Mean­while, Lawrence Cavendish’s behav­ior dur­ing ques­tion­ing sug­gests dis­com­fort, but Poirot notes sub­tle cues that indi­cate he may not be telling the full sto­ry. It’s not just who had motive—it’s who had knowl­edge of the house­hold rou­tines, and who could act swift­ly and with­out detec­tion.

Detec­tive Inspec­tor Japp’s intro­duc­tion brings offi­cial weight to the inves­ti­ga­tion. With Scot­land Yard now involved, there is an expec­ta­tion of rapid res­o­lu­tion. Yet Poirot remains char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly qui­et, bid­ing his time, allow­ing events to unfold while col­lect­ing over­looked details. He lis­tens to the lan­guage of grief, eva­sion, and fear. He sees what oth­ers dismiss—a clue dropped in a phrase, a truth hid­den in a glance. Poirot’s method is not about rush­ing to con­clu­sions but allow­ing the evi­dence to speak once all the noise of spec­u­la­tion fades. While oth­ers are drawn to the obvi­ous sus­pect, he remains alert to the shad­ow behind the facts.

What emerges most from this chap­ter is not just the evi­dence, but the atmos­phere of sus­pi­cion and ambi­gu­i­ty that per­me­ates every exchange. The inquest does not pro­vide clo­sure; it mere­ly lays bare how entan­gled the house­hold has become in its secrets. Read­ers are remind­ed that in mys­ter­ies involv­ing fam­i­ly, appear­ances can often be masks rather than win­dows. As Poirot pre­pares to act on what he has qui­et­ly observed, the sto­ry shifts from inquiry to con­fronta­tion. What lies ahead is not only the iden­ti­fi­ca­tion of the killer but the unrav­el­ing of emo­tion­al truths hid­den under polite silence. The stage is now set not just for res­o­lu­tion, but for the kind of clar­i­ty that only Poirot’s mind can bring.