up her fair coloring. She was a singularly lovely

woman, and there was about her a aimple childlike

candor which made her charm quit irresistible.

"Alice Chatterton is so kind," she said. "She

arranged this. She said you would help me, M.

Poirot. Of course I don't know whether you will

or not--but I hope you will."

She had held out her hand and P oirot had taken

it. He held it now for a moment cr two while he

stood scrutinizing her closely. There was nothing

ill-bred in his manner of doing it. It was more the

kind but searching look that a fanaous consultant

gives a new patient as the latter is shered into his

presence.

"Are you ,Jure, madame," he said at last, "that

I can help you?"

"Alice says so."

"Yes, but I am asking you, madame."

A little flush rose to her cheeks.

"I don't know what you mean."

"What is it, madame, that you want me to do?"

"You--you--know who I am?" she asked.

"Assuredly."

"Then you can guess what it is I am asking

you to do, M. Poirot--Captain Hastings"--I was

36

Agatha Christie

gratified that she realized my identity--"Major

Rich did not kill my husband."

"Why not?"

Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net