"The papers were in this, monsieur," she said. "They were kept in a large sealed envelope."

"You told me nothing of this," said Fournier sharply, "when I questioned you three days ago?"

"I ask pardon, monsieur. You asked me where were the papers that should be in the safe? I told you I had burned them. That was true. Exactly where the papers were kept seemed unimportant."

"True," said Fournier. "You understand, Mademoiselle Grandier, that those papers should not have been burned."

"I obeyed madame's orders," said Élise sullenly.

"You acted, I know, for the best," said Fournier soothingly. "Now I want you to listen to me very closely, mademoiselle. Madame was murdered. It is possible that she was murdered by a person or persons about whom she held certain damaging knowledge. That knowledge was in those papers you burned. I am going to ask you a question, mademoiselle, and do not reply too quickly without reflection. It is possible - indeed, in my view, it is probable and quite understandable - that you glanced through those papers before committing them to the flames. If that is the case, no blame will be attached to you for so doing. On the contrary, any information you have acquired may be of the greatest service to the police, and may be of material service in bringing the murderer to justice. Therefore, mademoiselle, have no fear in answering truthfully. Did you, before burning the papers, glance over them?"

Élise breathed hard. She leaned forward and spoke emphatically.

"No, monsieur," she said, "I looked at nothing. I read nothing. I burned the envelope without undoing the seal."

Chapter 10

Fournier stared hard at her for a moment or two. Then, satisfied that she was speaking the truth, he turned away with a gesture of discouragement.

"It is a pity," he said. "You acted honorably, mademoiselle, but it is a pity."

"I cannot help it, monsieur. I am sorry."

Fournier sat down and drew a notebook from his pocket.

"When I questioned you before, you told me, mademoiselle, that you did not know the names of madame's clients. Yet, just now, you speak of them whining and asking for mercy. You did, therefore, know something about these clients of Madame Giselle's?"

"Let me explain, monsieur. Madame never mentioned a name. She never discussed her business. But all the same, one is human, is one not? There are ejaculations, comments. Madame spoke to me sometimes as she would to herself."

Poirot leaned forward.

"If you would give us an instance, mademoiselle -" he said.

"Let me see - ah, yes - say a letter comes. Madame opens it. She laughs - a short dry laugh. She says, 'You whine and you snivel, my fine lady. All the same, you must pay.' Or she would say to me, 'What fools!

What fools! To think I would lend large sums without proper security. Knowledge is security, Élise. Knowledge is power.' Something like that she would say."

"Madame's clients who came to the house - did you ever see any of them?"