"You cannot pretend that you are very

attached to it. The painting is abominable."

"Oh, it has no artistic merit, I agree.

But it is a pupiFs work and --"

"I assure you. Mademoiselle, that it is a

most unsuitable picture to have hanging

upon your wall."

"I don't know why you should say that, M. Poirot."

"I will prove it to you in a moment."

He took a bottle, a sponge and some

rags from his pocket. He said:

"First I am going to tell you a little story, Mademoiselle. It has a resemblance to the story of the Ugly Duckling that turned

into a Swan."

He was working busily as he talked. The

odour of turpentine filled the room.

"You do not perhaps go much to

theatrical revues ?"

"No, indeed, they seem to me so

trivial. ..."

347

"Trivial, yes, but sometimes instructive.

I have seen a clever revue artist change her

personality in the most miraculous way.

In one sketch she is a cabaret star, exquisite

and glamorous. Ten minutes later,

she is an undersized, anaemic child with

adenoids, dressed in a gym tunic--ten

minutes later still, she is a ragged gypsy

telling fortunes by a caravan."

"Very possible, no doubt, but I do not

see --"

"But I am showing you how the conjuring

trick was worked on the train.

Winnie, the schoolgirl, with her fair plaits, her spectacles, her disfiguring dental plate

--goes into the Toilette. She emerges a

quarter of an hour later as --to use the

words of Detective Inspector Heam --'a

flashy piece of goods'. Sheer silk stockings,

high heeled shoes --a mink coat to cover

a school uniform, a daring little piece of

velvet called a hat perched on her curls - and a face --oh yes, a face. Rouge, powder, lipstick, mascara! What is the real face of that quick change artiste really like?

Probably only the good God knows! But

you. Mademoiselle, you yourself, you have

often seen how the awkward schoolgirl

348

changes almost miraculously into the attractive

and well-groomed debutante."

Miss Pope gasped.

"Do you mean that Winnie King disguised

herself as --"

"Not Winnie King--no. Winnie was

kidnapped on the way across London. Our

quick change artiste took her place. Miss

Burshaw had never seen Winnie King-how was she to know that the schoolgirl with the lank plaits and the brace on her

teeth was not Winnie King at all ? So far, so good, but the impostor could not afford actually to arrive here, since you were

acquainted with the real Winnie. So hey

presto, Winnie disappears in the Toilette and emerges as wife to a man called Jim Elliott whose passport includes a wife!

The fair plaits, the spectacles, the lisle

thread stockings, the dental plate--all

that can go into a small space. But the

thick unglamorous shoes and the hat - that very unyielding British hat --have to be disposed of elsewhere--they go out

of the window. Later, the real Winnie is