"I could explain that-but it would be somewhat involved, and perhapser well, rather embarrassing." "Ah, you spare my blushes." Suddenly Poirot leaned forward and tapped the young man on the knee. was And the ink that is spilt over another student's papers, the silk scarf that is cut and slashed. Do these things cause you no disquietude?" The complacence and superiority of Colin's manner underwent a sudden and not unlikeable change.

"They do," he said. "Believe me, they do.

It's serious. She ought to have treatment-at once. But medical treatment, that's the point. It's not a case for the police. The poor little devil doesn't even know what it's all about. She's all tied up in knots. If I Poirot interrupted him.

"You know then who she is?" "Well, I have a very strong suspicion." Poirot murmured with the air of one who is recapitulating.

"A girl who is not outstandingly successful with the other sex. A shy girl. An affectionate girl.

A girl whose brain is inclined to be slow in its reactions. A girl who feels frustrated and lonely. A girl . .

There was a tap on the door. Poirot broke off. The tap was repeated.

"Come in," said Mrs. Hubbard.

The door opened and Celia Austin came in.

"Ah," said Poirot, nodding his head.

"Exactly. Miss Celia Austin." Celia looked at Colin with agonised eyes.

"I didn't know you were here," she said breathlessly.

"I camel came..." She took a deep breath and rushed to Mrs.

Hubbard.

"Please, please don't send for the police.

It's me. I've been taking those things. I don't know why. I can't imagine. I didn't want to.

It just-it just came over me." She whirled round on Colin. "So now you know what I'm like ... and I suppose you'll never speak to me a am. I know I'm awful..." ,eaOch! not a bit of it," said Colin.

His rich voice was warm and friendly. "You're just a bit mixed up, that's all. It's just a kind of illness you've had, from not looking at things clearly.

If you'll trust me, Celia, I'll soon be able to put you right." "Oh, Colin-really?" Celia looked at him with unconcealed adoration.

"I've been so dreadfully worried." He took her hand in a slightly avuncular manner.

"Well, there's no need to worry any more." Rising to his feet he drew Celia's hand through his arm and looked sternly at Mrs. Hubbard.

"I hope now," he said, "that there'll be no more foolish talk of calling in the police. Nothing's been stolen of any real worth and what has been taken, Celia will return." "I can't return the bracelet and the powder compact," said Celia anxiously. "I pushed them down a gutter. But I'll buy new ones." "And the stethoscope?" said Pggjirot. "Where did you put that?" Celia flushed.

"I never took any stethoscope. What should I want with a silly old stethoscope?" Her flush deepened. "And it wasn't me who spilt ink all over Elizabeth's papers. I'd never do a-a malicious thing like that." "Yet you cut and slashed Miss Hobhouse's scarf, Mademoiselle." Celia looked uncomfortable. She said rather uncertainly, "That was dill erent. I mean-Valerie didn't mind." "And the rucksack?" "Oh, I didn't cut that up. That was just temper." Poirot took out the list he had copied from Mrs. Hubbard's little book.