flung together at random. She had a passion for
order almost equaling that of Poirot aimself; and
though capable of thinking, sh nx'er thought
unless told to do so.
Poirot handed her the morning correspondence'
"Have the goodness, mademoiselle, to write refusals
couched in correct terms to all (if these."
Miss Lemon ran an eye over the vafious letters,
scribbling in turn a hieroglyphic n egtch of them.
These marks were legible to her al0na and were in
a code of her own: "Soft soap"; ,'slap in the
face"; "purr purr"; "curt"; anti so on. Having
done this, she nodded and looked uP for further
instructions.
Poirot handed her Amelia Barro*vbY's letter.
She extracted it from its double envelope, read it
through and looked up inquiringly.
"Yes, M. Poirot?" Her pencil hoqeredready
over her shorthand pad.
"What is your opinion of that letter, Miss
Lemon?"
With a slight frown Miss Lemt)n l0ut down the
pencil and read through the letter agair.
The contents of a letter meant nothing to Miss
Lemon except from the point of vieV of composing
an adequate reply. Very occasio0ally her em
56
Agatha Christie
ployer appealed to her human, as opposed to
her official, capacities. It slightly annoyed Miss