This preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.
Unformatted text preview: d that girl says.
She's the kind of girl who's a born liar."
"So actually, you remember quite a lot
about her ?"
Sanderfield said hastily:
"Just an impression, that's all.. .. Don't
even remember her name. Let me see, Marie something or other -- no, I'm afraid
I can't help you to get hold of her. Sorry."
Poirot said gently:
"I have already got the name of Marie
Hellin from the Thespian Theatre -- and
her address. But I am speaking. Sir
George, of the maid who was with Mademoiselle
Samoushenka before Marie Hellin.
I am speaking ofNita Valetta."
Sanderfield stared. He said:
"Don't remember her at all. Marie's the
only one I remember. Little dark girl with
a nasty look in her eye."
Poirot said: "The girl I mean was at your house
Grasslawn last June."
Sanderfield said sulkily:
"Well, all I can say is I don't remember
her. Don't believe she had a maid with
her. I think you're making a mistake."
Hercule Poirot shook his head. He did
not think he was making a mistake.
Marie Hellin looked swiftly at Poirot out of
small intelligent eyes and as swiftly looked
away again. She said in smooth, even tones :
"But I remember perfectly. Monsieur.
I was engaged by Madame Samoushenka
the last week in June. Her former maid
had departed in a hurry."
"Did you ever hear why that maid left ?" "She went--suddenly--that is all I
know! It may have been illness—something
of that kind. Madame did not say."
"Did you find your mistress easy to get
on with ?"
The girl shrugged her shoulders.
"She had great moods. She wept and
laughed in turns. Sometimes she was so despondent she would not speak or eat.
Sometimes she was wildly gay. They are
like that, these dancers. It is temperament."
"And Sir George ?"
The girl looked up alertly. An unpleasant
gleam came into her eyes.
"Ah, Sir George Sanderfield? You
would like to know about him? Perhaps
it is that you really want to know? The
other was only an excuse, eh? Ah, Sir
George, I could tell you some curious
things about him, I could tell you — "
"It is not necessary."
She stared at him, her mouth open.
Angry disappointment showed in her eyes.
"I always say you know everything, Alexis
Hercule Poirot murmured the words
with his most flattering intonation.
He was reflecting to himself that this
third Labour of Hercules had necessitated
more travelling and more interviews than could have been imagined possible. This
little matter of a missing lady's-maid was
proving one of the longest and most
difficult problems he had ever tackled.
Every clue, when examined, led exactly
It had brought him this evening to the
Samovar Restaurant in Paris whose proprietor, Count Alexis Pavlovitch, prided
himself on knowing everything that went
on in the artistic world.
He nodded now complacently:
"Yes, yes, my friend, I know -- I always
know. You ask me where she is gone-the litt...
View Full Document