She rose, unlocked a drawer, took out a small bound book, turned the pages and finally announced:
‘Lord Edgware went to Paris on November 3rd and returned on the 7th. He also went over on November 20th and returned on December 4th. Anything more?’
‘Yes. For what purpose did he go?’
‘On the first occasion he went to see some statuettes which he thought of purchasing and which were to be auctioned later. On the second occasion he had no definite purpose in view so far as I know.’
‘Did Mademoiselle Marsh accompany her father on either occasion?’
‘She never accompanied her father on any occasion, M. Poirot. Lord Edgware would never have dreamed of such a thing. At that time she was at a convent in Paris, but I do not think her father went to see her or took her out—at least it would surprise me very much if he had.’
‘You yourself did not accompany him?’
‘No.’
She looked at him curiously and then said abruptly:
‘Why are you asking me these questions, M. Poirot? What is the point of them?’
Poirot did not reply to this question. Instead he said:
‘Miss Marsh is very fond of her cousin, is she not?’
‘Really, M. Poirot, I don’t see what that has got to do with you.’
‘She came to see me the other day! You knew that?’
‘No, I did not.’ She seemed startled. ‘What did she say?’
‘She told me—though not in actual words—that she was very fond of her cousin.’
‘Well, then, why ask me?’
‘Because I seek your opinion.’
This time Miss Carroll decided to answer.
‘Much too fond of him in my opinion. Always has been.’
‘You do not like the present Lord Edgware?’
‘I don’t say that. I’ve no use for him, that’s all. He’s not serious. I don’t deny he’s got a pleasant way with him. He can talk you round. But I’d rather see Geraldine getting interested in someone with a little more backbone.’
‘Such as the Duke of Merton?’
‘I don’t know the Duke. At any rate, he seems to take the duties of his position seriously. But he’s running after that woman—that precious Jane Wilkinson.’
‘His mother—’
‘Oh! I dare say his mother would prefer him to marry Geraldine. But what can mothers do? Sons never want to marry the girls their mothers want them to marry.’
‘Do you think that Miss Marsh’s cousin cares for her?’
‘Doesn’t matter whether he does or doesn’t in the position he’s in.’
‘You think, then, that he will be condemned?’
‘No, I don’t. I don’t think he did it.’
‘But he might be condemned all the same?’
Miss Carroll did not reply.
‘I must not detain you.’ Poirot rose. ‘By the way, did you know Carlotta Adams?’
‘I saw her act. Very clever.’
‘Yes, she was clever.’ He seemed lost in meditation. ‘Ah! I have put down my gloves.’
Reaching forward to get them from the table where he had laid them, his cuff caught the chain of Miss Carroll’s pince-nez and jerked them off. Poirot retrieved them and the gloves which he had dropped, uttering confused apologies.
‘I must apologize also once more for disturbing you,’ he ended. ‘But I fancied there might be some clue in a dispute Lord Edgware had with someone last year. Hence my questions about Paris. A forlorn hope, I fear, but Mademoiselle seemed so very positive it was not her cousin who committed the crime. Remarkably positive she was. Well, goodnight, Mademoiselle, and a thousand pardons for disturbing you.’
We had reached the door when Miss Carroll’s voice recalled us.
‘M. Poirot, these aren’t my glasses. I can’t see through them.’
‘Comment?’ Poirot stared at her in amazement. Then his face broke up into smiles.
‘Imbecile that I am! My own glasses fell out of my pocket as I stooped to get the gloves and pick up yours. I have mixed the two pairs. They look very alike, you see.’
An exchange was made, with smiles on both sides, and we took our departure.
‘Poirot,’ I said when we were outside. ‘You don’t wear glasses.’
He beamed at me.
‘Penetrating! How quickly you see the point.’