‘I think that is what happened. Yes,’ said Poirot. ‘Someone saw the jewels being hidden and forgot all other duties or interests in the determination to possess them!’

‘It isn’t true, I tell you. I saw nothing—’

‘Inspector Kelsey.’ Poirot turned his head.

Inspector Kelsey nodded—went to the door, opened it, and Mrs Upjohn walked into the room.

II

‘How do you do, Miss Bulstrode,’ said Mrs Upjohn, looking rather embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry I’m looking rather untidy, but I was somewhere near Ankara yesterday and I’ve just flown home. I’m in a terrible mess and I really haven’t had time to clean myself up or do anything.’

‘That does not matter,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘We want to ask you something.’

‘Mrs Upjohn,’ said Kelsey, ‘when you came here to bring your daughter to the school and you were in Miss Bulstrode’s sitting-room, you looked out of the window—the window which gives on the front drive—and you uttered an exclamation as though you recognized someone you saw there. That is so, is it not?’

Mrs Upjohn stared at him. ‘When I was in Miss Bulstrode’s sitting-room? I looked—oh, yes, of course! Yes, I did see someone.’

‘Someone you were surprised to see?’

‘Well, I was rather…You see, it had all been such years ago.’

‘You mean the days when you were working in Intelligence towards the end of the war?’

‘Yes. It was about fifteen years ago. Of course, she looked much older, but I recognized her at once. And I wondered what on earth she could be doing here.’

‘Mrs Upjohn, will you look round this room and tell me if you see that person here now?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Mrs Upjohn. ‘I saw her as soon as I came in. That’s her.’

She stretched out a pointing finger. Inspector Kelsey was quick and so was Adam, but they were not quick enough. Ann Shapland had sprung to her feet. In her hand was a small wicked-looking automatic and it pointed straight at Mrs Upjohn. Miss Bulstrode, quicker than the two men, moved sharply forward, but swifter still was Miss Chadwick. It was not Mrs Upjohn that she was trying to shield, it was the woman who was standing between Ann Shapland and Mrs Upjohn.

‘No, you shan’t,’ cried Chaddy, and flung herself on Miss Bulstrode just as the small automatic went off.

Miss Chadwick staggered, then slowly crumpled down. Miss Johnson ran to her. Adam and Kelsey had got hold of Ann Shapland now. She was struggling like a wild cat, but they wrested the small automatic from her.

Mrs Upjohn said breathlessly:

‘They said then that she was a killer. Although she was so young. One of the most dangerous agents they had. Angelica was her code name.’

‘You lying bitch!’ Ann Shapland fairly spat out the words.

Hercule Poirot said:

‘She does not lie. You are dangerous. You have always led a dangerous life. Up to now, you have never been suspected in your own identity. All the jobs you have taken in your own name have been perfectly genuine jobs, efficiently performed—but they have all been jobs with a purpose, and that purpose has been the gaining of information. You have worked with an Oil Company, with an archaeologist whose work took him to a certain part of the globe, with an actress whose protector was an eminent politician. Ever since you were seventeen you have worked as an agent—though for many different masters. Your services have been for hire and have been highly paid. You have played a dual role. Most of your assignments have been carried out in your own name, but there were certain jobs for which you assumed different identities. Those were the times when ostensibly you had to go home and be with your mother.