"I find her a very interesting study,53 said

Dr. Alice Cunningham. ''Naturally I am

interested in her as the mother of the man

I am going to marry, but I am interested

in her from the professional standpoint as

well.35

435

"Indeed ?"

"Yes. I am writing a book on criminal

psychology. I find the night life of this place

very illuminating. We have several criminal

types who come here regularly. I have

discussed their early life with some of them.

Of course you know all about Vera's

criminal tendencies --I mean that she

steals ?35

"Why, yes --I know that," said Poirot, slightly taken aback.

"I call it the Magpie complex myself.

She takes, you know, always glittering things. Never money. Always jewels. I find that as a child she was petted and indulged

but very much shielded. Life was unendurably

dull for her --dull and safe. Her

nature demanded drama--it craved for punishment. That is at the root of her indulgence in theft. She wants the importance, the notoriety of being punished}" Poirot objected, "Her life can surely not

have been safe and dull as a member of the ancien regime in Russia during the Revolution

?"

A look of faint amusement showed in

Miss Cunningham^s pale blue eyes.

"Ah," she said. "A member of the

436

ancien regime^ She has told you that?"

"She is undeniably an aristocrat," said

Poirot staunchly, fighting back certain

uneasy memories of the wildly varying

accounts of her early life told him by the

Countess herself.

"One believes what one wishes to

believe," remarked Miss Cunningham, casting a professional eye on him. Poirot felt alarmed. In a moment, he

felt, he would be told what was his complex.

He decided to carry the war into the

enemy's camp. He enjoyed the Countess

RossakofTs society partly because of her

aristocratic provenance, and he was not

going to have his enjoyment spoiled by

a spectacled little girl with boiled gooseberry

eyes and a degree in psychology!

"Do you know what I find astonishing ?"

he asked.

Alice Cunningham did not admit in so

many words that she did not know. She

contented herself with looking bored but

indulgent.

Poirot went on:

"It amazes me that you--who are

young, and who could look pretty if you

took the trouble --well, it amazes me that

437

you do not take the trouble! You wear

the heavy coat and skirt with the big

pockets as though you were going to play

the game of golf. But it is not here the golf

links, it is the underground cellar with the

temperature of 71 Fahrenheit, and your

nose it is hot and shines, but you do not

powder it, and the lipstick you put it on

your mouth without interest, without emphasising

the curve of the lips! You are

a woman, but you do not draw attention

to the fact of being a woman. And I say to

you ^Why not y It is a pity!"

For a moment he had the satisfaction