She almost flung the ornament at Poirot. It was a large rather showy chromium or stainless steel brooch with T.A. enclosed in a circle. I had to admit that it was large enough and showy enough to be easily seen in Miss Lawson’s mirror.
“I never wear it now. I’m tired of it,” said Theresa. “London’s been flooded with them. Every little skivvy wears one.”
“But it was expensive when you bought it?”
“Oh, yes. They were quite exclusive to begin with.”
“When was that?”
“Last Christmas, I think it was. Yes, about then.”
“Have you ever lent it to anyone?”
“No.”
“You had it with you at Littlegreen House?”
“I suppose I did. Yes, I did. I remember.”
“Did you leave it about at all? Was it out of your possession while you were there?”
“No, it wasn’t. I wore it on a green jumper. I remember. And I wore the same jumper every day.”
“And at night?”
“It was still in the jumper.”
“And the jumper.”
“Oh, hell, the jumper was sitting on a chair.”
“You are sure no one removed the brooch and put it back again the next day?”
“We’ll say so in court if you like—if you think that’s the best lie to tell! Actually I’m quite sure that nothing like that happened! It’s a pretty idea that somebody framed me—but I don’t think it’s true.”
Poirot frowned. Then he got up, attached the brooch carefully to his coat lapel and approached a mirror on a table at the other end of the room. He stood in front of it and then moved slowly backward, getting an effect of distance.
Then he uttered a grunt.
“Imbecile that I am! Of course!”
He came back and handed the brooch to Theresa with a bow.
“You are quite right, mademoiselle. The brooch did not leave your possession! I have been regrettably dense.”
“I do like modesty,” said Theresa, pinning the brooch on carelessly.
She looked up at him.
“Anything more? I ought to be going.”
“Nothing that cannot be discussed later.”
Theresa moved towards the door. Poirot went on in a quiet voice:
“There is a question of exhumation, it is true—”
Theresa stopped dead. The brooch fell to the ground.