‘And the other woman?’ asked Adam.

Poirot looked at him. Then, slowly, he shifted his gaze to the other two men.

‘You do not know,’ he said. ‘And I do not know. It could have been someone from outside—?’

His voice half asked a question.

Kelsey shook his head.

‘I think not. We have sifted the neighbourhood very carefully. Especially, of course, in the case of strangers. There was a Madam Kolinsky staying nearby—known to Adam here. But she could not have been concerned in either murder.’

‘Then it comes back to Meadowbank. And there is only one method to arrive at the truth—elimination.’

Kelsey sighed.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s what it amounts to. For the first murder, it’s a fairly open field. Almost anybody could have killed Miss Springer. The exceptions are Miss Johnson and Miss Chadwick—and a child who had the earache. But the second murder narrows things down. Miss Rich, Miss Blake and Miss Shapland are out of it. Miss Rich was staying at the Alton Grange Hotel, twenty miles away, Miss Blake was at Littleport on Sea, Miss Shapland was in London at a night club, the Nid Sauvage, with Mr Dennis Rathbone.’

‘And Miss Bulstrode was also away, I understand?’

Adam grinned. The Inspector and the Chief Constable looked shocked.

‘Miss Bulstrode,’ said the Inspector severely, ‘was staying with the Duchess of Welsham.’

‘That eliminates Miss Bulstrode then,’ said Poirot gravely. ‘And leaves us—what?’

‘Two members of the domestic staff who sleep in, Mrs Gibbons and a girl called Doris Hogg. I can’t consider either of them seriously. That leaves Miss Rowan and Mademoiselle Blanche.’

‘And the pupils, of course.’

Kelsey looked startled.

‘Surely you don’t suspect them?’

‘Frankly, no. But one must be exact.’

Kelsey paid no attention to exactitude. He plodded on.

‘Miss Rowan has been here over a year. She has a good record. We know nothing against her.’

‘So we come, then, to Mademoiselle Blanche. It is there that the journey ends.’

There was a silence.

‘There’s no evidence,’ said Kelsey. ‘Her credentials seem genuine enough.’

‘They would have to be,’ said Poirot.

‘She snooped,’ said Adam. ‘But snooping isn’t evidence of murder.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Kelsey, ‘there was something about a key. In our first interview with her—I’ll look it up—something about the key of the Pavilion falling out of the door and she picked it up and forgot to replace it—walked out with it and Springer bawled her out.’

‘Whoever wanted to go out there at night and look for the racquet would have had to have a key to get in with,’ said Poirot. ‘For that, it would have been necessary to take an impression of the key.’

‘Surely,’ said Adam, ‘in that case she would never have mentioned the key incident to you.’

‘That doesn’t follow,’ said Kelsey. ‘Springer might have talked about the key incident. If so, she might think it better to mention it in a casual fashion.’

‘It is a point to be remembered,’ said Poirot.