Chapter 24

A Broken Finger-Nail

‘What now?’ cried Fournier. ‘You are still preoccupied with this girl who inherits? Decidedly it is the idée fixe you have there.’

‘Not at all, not at all,’ said Poirot. ‘But there must be in all things order and method. One must finish with one thing before proceeding to the next.’

He looked round.

‘Here is Mademoiselle Jane. Suppose that you commence déjeuner. I will join you as soon as I can.’

Fournier acquiesced and he and Jane went into the dining-room.

‘Well?’ said Jane with curiosity. ‘What is she like?’

‘She is a little over medium height, dark, with a matte c

omplexion, a pointed chin—’

‘You’re talking exactly like a passport,’ said Jane. ‘My passport description is simply insulting, I think. It’s composed of mediums and ordinary. Nose, medium; mouth ordinary (how do they expect you to describe a mouth?); forehead, ordinary; chin, ordinary.’

‘But not ordinary eyes,’ said Fournier.

‘Even they are grey, which is not a very exciting colour.’

‘And who has told you, Mademoiselle, that it is not an exciting colour?’ said the Frenchman, leaning across the table.

Jane laughed.

‘Your command of the English language,’ she said, ‘is highly efficient. Tell me more about Anne Morisot—is she pretty?’

‘Assez bien,’ said Fournier cautiously. ‘And she is not Anne Morisot. She is Anne Richards. She is married.’

‘Was the husband there, too?’

‘No.’

‘Why not, I wonder?’

‘Because he is in Canada or America.’

He explained some of the circumstances of Anne’s life. Just as he was drawing his narrative to a close, Poirot joined them.

He looked a little dejected.

‘Well, mon cher?’ inquired Fournier.

‘I spoke to the principal—to Mère Angélique herself. It is romantic, you know, the transatlantic telephone. To speak so easily to someone nearly halfway across the globe.’

‘The telegraphed photograph—that too is romantic. Science is the greatest romance there is. But you were saying?’

‘I talked with Mère Angélique. She confirmed exactly what Mrs Richards told us of the circumstances of her having been brought up at the Institut de Marie. She spoke quite frankly about the mother who left Quebec with a Frenchman interested in the wine trade. She was relieved at the time that the child would not come under her mother’s influence. From her point of view Giselle was on the downward path. Money was sent regularly—but Giselle never suggested a meeting.’

‘In fact your conversation was a repetition of what we heard this morning.’

‘Practically—except that it was more detailed. Anne Morisot left the Institut de Marie six years ago to become a manicurist, afterwards she had a job as a lady’s maid—and finally left Quebec for Europe in that capacity. Her letters were not frequent, but Mère Angélique usually heard from her about twice a year. When she saw an account of the inquest in the paper she realized that this Marie Morisot was in all probability the Marie Morisot who had lived in Quebec.’

‘What about the husband?’ asked Fournier. ‘Now that we know definitely that Giselle was married, the husband might become a factor?’

Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery
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