‘What did she have to say?’
‘She wished to stress certain points: the unEnglish character of the cri
me—the possibly undesirable antecedents of Miss Estravados on the paternal side—the fact that Miss Estravados had furtively picked up something from the floor last night.’
‘She told you that, did she?’ said Sugden with interest.
‘Yes. What was it that the señorita picked up?’
Sugden sighed.
‘I could give you three hundred guesses! I’ll show it to you. It’s the sort of thing that solves the whole mystery in detective stories! If you can make anything out of it, I’ll retire from the police force!’
‘Show it me.’
Sugden took an envelope from his pocket and tilted its contents on to the palm of his hand. A faint grin showed on his face.
‘There you are. What do you make of it?’
On the superintendent’s broad palm lay a little triangular piece of pink rubber and a small wooden peg.
His grin broadened as Poirot picked up the articles and frowned over them.
‘Make anything of them, Mr Poirot?’
‘This little piece of stuff might have been cut from a spongebag?’
‘It was. It comes from a spongebag in Mr Lee’s room. Somebody with sharp scissors just cut a small triangular piece out of it. Mr Lee may have done it himself, for all I know. But it beats me why he should do it. Horbury can’t throw any light on the matter. As for the peg, it’s about the size of a crib-bage peg, but they’re usually made of ivory. This is just rough wood—whittled out of a bit of deal, I should say.’
‘Most remarkable,’ murmured Poirot.
‘Keep ’em if you like,’ said Sugden kindly. ‘I don’t want them.’
‘Mon ami, I would not deprive you of them!’
‘They don’t mean anything at all to you?’
‘I must confess—nothing whatever!’
‘Splendid!’ said Sugden with heavy sarcasm, returning them to his pocket. ‘We are getting on!’
Poirot said:
‘Mrs George Lee, she recounts that the young lady stooped and picked these bagatelles up in a furtive manner. Should you say that that was true?’
Sugden considered the point.
‘N-o,’ he said hesitatingly. ‘I shouldn’t quite go as far as that. She didn’t look guilty—nothing of that kind—but she did set about it rather—well, quickly and quietly—if you know what I mean. And she didn’t know I’d seen her do it! That I’m sure of. She jumped when I rounded on her.’
Poirot said thoughtfully:
‘Then there was a reason? But what conceivable reason could there have been? That little piece of rubber is quite fresh. It has not been used for anything. It can have no meaning whatsoever; and yet—’
Sugden said impatiently:
‘Well, you can worry about it if you like, Mr Poirot. I’ve got other things to think about.’
Poirot asked: