‘Madame, you are in the right, and I am in the wrong. Your remarks are just and intelligent. This case will be a novelty. Never yet have I hunted a missing domestic. Truly here is the problem of national importance that I was demanding of fate just before your arrival. En avant! You say this jewel of a cook went out on
Wednesday and did not return. That is the day before yesterday.’ ‘Yes, it was her day out.’
‘But probably, madame, she has met with some accident. Have you inquired at any of the hospitals?’
‘That’s exactly what I thought yesterday, but this morning, if you please, she sent for her box. And not so much as a line to mel If I’d been at home, I’d not have let it go – treating me like thatl
But I’d just stepped out to the butcher.’
‘Will you describe her to me?’
‘She was middle-aged, stout, black hair turning grey – most respectable. She’d been ten years in her last place. Eliza Dunn, her name was.’
‘And you had had – no disagreement with her on the Wednes-day?’
‘None whatever. That’s what makes it all so queer.’
‘How many servants do you keep, madame?’
‘Two. The house-parlourmaid, Annie, is a very nice girl. A bit forgetful and her head full of young men, but a good servant if you keep her up to her work.’
‘Did she and the cook get on well together?’
‘They had their ups and downs, of course – but on the whole, very well.’
‘And the girl can throw no light on the mystery?’
‘She says not – but you know what servants are – they all hang together.’
‘Well, well, we must look into this. Where did you say you resided, madame?’
‘At Clapham; 88 Prince Albert Road.’
‘Bien, madame,, I will wish you good morning, and you may count upon seeing me at your residence during the course of the day.’
Mrs Todd, for such was our new friend’s name, then took her departure. Poirot looked at me somewhat ruefully.
‘Well, well, Hastings, this is a novel affair that we have here.
The Disappearance of the Clapham Cookl Never, never, must our friend Inspector Japp get to hear of thisl’
He then proceeded to heat an iron and carefully removed the grease spot from his grey suit by means of a piece of blotting-paper.
His moustaches he regretfully postponed to another day, and we set out for Clapham.
Prince Albert Road proved to be a street of small prim houses, all exactly alike, with neat lace curtains veiling the windows, and well polished brass knockers on the doors.
We rang the bell at No. 88, and the door was opened by a neat maid with a pretty face. Mrs Todd came out in the hall to greet us.
‘Don’t go, Annie,’ she cried. ‘This gentleman’s a detective and he’ll want to ask you some questions.’
Annie’s face displayed a struggle between alarm and a pleasur-able excitement.
‘I thank you, madame,’ said Poirot bowing. ‘I would like to question your maid now – and to see her alone, if I may.’
We were shown into a small drawing-room, and when Mrs Todd, with obvious reluctance, had left the room, Poirot com-menced his cross-examination.
‘Voyons, Mademoiselle Annie, all that you shall tell us will be of the greatest importance. You alone can shed any light on the case. Without your assistance I can do nothing.’
The alarm vanished from the girl’s face and the pleasurable excitement became more strongly marked.
‘I’m sure, sir,’ she said, ‘I’ll tell you anything I can.’
‘That is good.’ Poirot beamed approval on her. ‘Now, first of all what is your own idea? You are a girl of remarkable intelligence.
That can be seen at oncel What is your own explanation of Eliza’s disappearance?’
Thus encouraged, Annie fairly flowed into excited speech.
‘White slavers, sir, I’ve said so all along! Cook was alway warning me against them. “Don’t you sniff no scent, or eat any sweets – no matter how gentlemanly the fellowl” Those were her words to me. And now they’ve got herl I’m sure of it. As likely a not, she’s been shipped to Turkey or one of them Eastern place, where I’ve heard they like them fat?