“Oh, yes, Mademoiselle Leonie, you know very well. A pretty history that you recount last night about a ghost that you have seen. As soon as I hear that you are standing there with your hands to your head, I know very well that there is no question of ghosts. If a girl is frightened she clasps her heart, or she raises her hands to her mouth to stifle a cry, but if her hands are on her hair it means something very different. It means that her hair has been ruffled and that she is hastily getting it into shape again! Now then, mademoiselle, let us have the truth. Why did you scream on the sta
irs?”
“But monsieur it is true, I saw a tall figure all in white—”
“Mademoiselle, do not insult my intelligence. That story, it may have been good enough for M. Carlile, but it is not good enough for Hercule Poirot. The truth is that you had just been kissed, is it not so? And I will make a guess that it was M. Reggie Carrington who kissed you.”
Leonie twinkled an unabashed eye at him.
“Eh bien,” she demanded, “after all, what is a kiss?”
“What, indeed?” said Poirot gallantly.
“You see, the young gentleman he came up behind me and caught me round the waist—and so naturally he startled me and I screamed. If I had known—well, then naturally I would not have screamed.”
“Naturally,” agreed Poirot.
“But he came upon me like a cat. Then the study door opened and out came M. le secrétaire and the young gentleman slipped away upstairs and there I was looking like a fool. Naturally I had to say something—especially to——” she broke into French, “un jeune homme comme ça, tellement comme il faut!”
“So you invent a ghost?”
“Indeed, monsieur, it was all I could think of. A tall figure all in white, that floated. It is ridiculous but what else could I do?”
“Nothing. So now, all is explained. I had my suspicions from the first.”
Leonie shot him a provocative glance.
“Monsieur is very clever, and very sympathetic.”
“And since I am not going to make you any embarrassments over the affair you will do something for me in return?”
“Most willingly, monsieur.”
“How much do you know of your mistress’s affairs?”
The girl shrugged her shoulders.
“Not very much, monsieur. I have my ideas, of course.”
“And those ideas?”
“Well, it does not escape me that the friends of madame are always soldiers or sailors or airmen. And then there are other friends—foreign gentlemen who come to see her very quietly sometimes. Madame is very handsome, though I do not think she will be so much longer. The young men, they find her very attractive. Sometimes I think, they say too much. But it is only my idea, that. Madame does not confide in me.”
“What you would have me to understand is that madame plays a lone hand?”
“That is right, monsieur.”
“In other words, you cannot help me.”
“I fear not, monsieur. I would do if I could.”
“Tell me, your mistress is in a good mood today?”
“Decidedly, monsieur.”
“Something has happened to please her?”
“She has been in good spirits ever since she came here.”