poirott:

“Sit, Bob. Good dog. You are the only one who knows the truth, mon petit. You know how your mistress died. You also know, I think, who killed her. He or she passed you by as they laid the trip wire, saying to themselves, “Oh, this is only Bob, a fox terrier. He cannot speak. I am safe.” Such foolishness, n’est-ce pas? But you and I, we know, Bob, that one does not have to speak in order to tell. And you will tell me all, in your own good time.“