If there had been one thing Flavia learned from both her heretofore short-lived experience as a detective as well as her numerous studies of famous poisoners throughout history, it was this: given enough of a chance, the truly guilty will stumble their way into an inextricable blunder. Mr. Pemberton had done so, hiding the Ulster Avenger in the last place he'd have ever thought to look; Hawley Crippen, in his panic, booked saloon tickets to Canada when third-class would have served him even better.

It's in this spirit that she listens to the man--Mr. Lupin--hem and haw his way through an explanation. With an answeringly vague smile, she drops the monkshood into the bag. "You were giving poisonous flowers to your friend?"